Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your feet pound against loose gravel as you distance yourself from the chaos behind you.

She’s shooting at you.

You can’t believe it.

Well, the shooting you can. But the fact that she thinks she’ll be able to hit you?

Ha!!

If this wretched family has taught you anything, it’s how to dodge a bullet.

You shout at her, hear her curse through the hail of gunfire but for all her bluster you know she won’t follow, nor send the dogs in her stead. You left behind a much more immediate problem then your current escape. And besides. You’re her little sister. Maybe she’s missing the shots on purpose. You wouldn’t put it past her, oh so protective she is.

Keeping you confined to her estate. You can’t call it a home. It never felt as such.

Claiming it was for your own good, own safety to keep you away from the plights of the world. Or to keep you unaware of her checkered past and unscrupulous dealings. Not that it did her much good. Her being absent for most of your adult life left you time to wander, time to read, to listen and to learn. And oh boy did you. Far more than you think she’d ever have wanted you to. Far more than she thinks you know. Well, maybe not now. Considering.

She shouts your name. Pleading? Angry? You can’t tell and the roaring of an inferno at your back drowns out all other cries as you sprint further away from the manor.

Go after her kin or save her empire. You left the choice in her bloodied hands.

You know which she will choose while fury envelopes her mind.

Even with what you’ve stolen.

She could get that back (you hope she won’t) but to rebuild lifetimes’ worth of information and records? You don’t think even she could pull that off. Plus. You don’t think she’d like sleeping in the wilds and you set up that blaze to burn fast and bright unless tamed quickly.

There’s a grin on your face as you haphazardly wrap and secure strips of cloth around your pulsing forearms. You hike up the skirt of your dress, bunching it up in a pale freckled fist as you readjust the strap of the hunting bag slug across your chest as it currently bounces off your hip, and shift the weight of the haversack settled heavy upon your back, hefty with your stolen treasures. Each frantic stride causes it to bounce against the plane of pain that’s set up residence in your spine, but the pain is worth it for what you now have in your possession. Enough incriminating evidence to put her away for the rest of her life. Only problem is, you have to find someone both in a position of power to do something with it, and not also be in her back pocket. Too many were. You knew most of their names thanks to your snooping, but you’ve been out of the loop for the last week. You think she knew what you were up to which begs the question. If she did indeed know, why didn’t she stop you?

Stop. You can’t think about that now. You hear the beating of hooves and feel your heart skip a beat, painful in your chest. Maybe you miscalculated, maybe she was coming after you. But the horses thunder ahead sans riders and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat. At least some part of her still holds a shred of empathy. And so you continue ahead with only the light of the moon for guidance as you don’t dare use anything else, lest you become a beacon in the night.

The closest town was a good while away on foot. A journey you certainly are not keen to take, but you knew this before you even planned your escape. You’ve prepared as well as you could have without having tipped anyone off, though it was still harrowing. You have never spent time out in the wilds for an extended period and you have to admit, you are worried. Worried that you’re even up to the task. But you didn’t really have a choice. Well, you did. But after what she had just done… You couldn’t have just stood by. Something had to be done. Someone had to stop her. And who better than someone who grew up with her? Who knew how she worked? Who had information that no one else would?

Your lungs burn and your limbs ache and you pull the makeshift shawl tighter around yourself as you draw near the edge of the property and that alone stokes the flame of hope in your heart. Like a second wind lifting your spirits your body feels lighter and your dare a glance over your shoulder. The flames are still visible from here of course, but less so now. Has the blaze been tended to? Or has it run out of fuel, dying against the dark of a charge-filled evening? It’s none of your concern now. All you have to do is focus on escaping, and hope that you can find the strength within yourself to keep on going until you find a haven.

Gravel turns to grass which then turns to mud and dirt as you finally enter the treeline and you let yourself smile. If she still decides to come after you at least you have the brush for cover. Though you do have to slow your pace a touch, only so that you do not trip on things you cannot see with the canopy above blocking the moonlight and rendering your path in shadows. You hardly hear the fire now but given the distance it’s not surprising. You can hear the sounds of the night though. Bugs chittering, the lonely sounds of the occasional nighttime bird song and the creaking of tree caused by sporadic bursts of winds.

Having rained only yesterday the ground beneath you is slippery and more than a few times you lose your footing before quickly righting yourself. Among all the sounds of the night the loudest right now has to be you, not caring for subtlety in preference to putting as much distance between you and her as you can. Distance is important, more so with her (hopefully) still dealing with the aftermath of your escape. If you’re lucky it will be a while before anyone can even have the time to come after you, especially with the only modes of transport out this far scattered in the woods and as skittish as you are.

Speaking of.

You hear something just ahead, the high-pitched whinny of a horse in distress that tugs at your heart. You slow yourself, not wanting to cause any more fright to the already panicked animal and soon enough through the wide-trunked trees you spy a familiar dappled grey flank as it struggles against something you are yet to see. The creature senses your presence and its panicked movements intensify, it squeals and pulls and you give it a wide birth as you position yourself where its eyes can see you. You speak out, voice low and calm and you keep it as such until the animal relaxes, yet its tail still swishes, its ears pulled back.

“Hey girl,” you smile, creeping closer and keeping your voice low as the mare stares at you. You see the problem now, the reins of its halter have somehow become twisted and tangled in the low branches of a young yet strong tree. You watch her watch you, her eyes are wide and she blows out hot breaths hard enough that you can feel the air upon your face, “You’re okay. You’re okay. It’s me.” It’s your voice that seems to do it, now that she’s quiet enough to hear it and you approach slowly with your arms outstretched and your heart hammering until you’re close enough to touch her, and so you do. You reach for her, fingers played and palm facing her and she watches you intently but doesn’t pull away, and so you rest your hand gently upon the length of her nose and she lets out an audible sigh, one that you echo. You stroke her gently and she pushes into your hand as she lets out a low nicker. It’s then that you get to work untangling the lead, tricky business in the dark but you’ve done it enough times in the light that’s its second nature to you. At last she is free and you move to stand back a touch to examine her in the dark. Interesting. Halter on but no saddle. Maybe she was being turned in for the night? But then why did she have reins attached but not a lead? You frown, staying silent for long enough that she shifts to face you, nudging your shoulder and causing you to stumble before letting out a soft laugh, “Alright then.” You give her another scratch and move to her side where you wince as you grab a fistful of her mane and step your right leg behind you before swinging yourself around and pulling up at the same time, landing with practiced care upon the sturdy horses back.

She doesn’t shift or startle beneath your weight and part of you is glad of your imposed isolation, as it gave you the time to spend with her in order to foster such a bond. You have always gotten along with animals better than people. You pat her neck gently and she lets out a rumble, shaking her head as you position yourself appropriately.

You have a couple of options now. Sneak through the trees on your rather large horse, or find your way back out onto a path and hope for the best. You sit still and listen, straining to hear any hint of a pursuit but apart from the chittering of the wildlife awake at this hour, the sound of hoofs squelching in concealed mud and the slowly quieting of your breathing, there is nothing to indicate that you have been followed. Yet. And you are one to take risks.

You grab the reins, sticky in your grip, and squeeze your legs either side of her warm shoulders as you urge her on. She moves without hesitation and you were not so panicked in your flight that you have forgotten the approximate direction of the pathway and so in no time at all brush and dirt changes back to gravel. Moonlight shines upon your back and your half-turn to look behind you at the plume of smoke curling up into the air and disappearing amongst the stars. Serves her right.

You open the bag at your hip to make sure nothing was lost during your escape, and you breathe a sigh of relief to see its contents all where they should be. Good. That’s the main thing. As to the bag on your back, now that you have a mode of transport its contents didn’t matter quiet as much, still, you made sure it was secured tight. And you’ve already spent too much time idle as it is. Time to go.

You grip the reins tight in your trembling fingers, marveling at the way the raw wounds upon your knuckles glisten in the moonlight, before you dig your heels into your horses soft flank until she’s trotting, then cantering, and then she is galloping as fast as she can down the path and into the unknown.

And when you fall into slumber later than evening as you wrap your shawl around your shivering frame, your sleep is plagued by not-so-distant memories.

+++++

There’s a booming voice out in the hall, accompanied by footsteps that have a chill running through you. You’re hidden well, you know that, you made sure of that. But still your heart leaps into your throat when the footfalls stop right outside the door. Keep going. Please keep going. She calls your name sounding worried and you tense up, as if you expect your own body to betray you. She’s still outside for a few moments longer, listening perhaps, but you do not move and soon enough she walks away. You breathe out through your nose, the noise sounding too loud to your ears but you can still hear her footsteps retreating down the hall. Good.

You unfurl yourself from where you had been crouched beneath her large oak desk, your body now cramped and aching. You place the bundle of cloth strips you had been gripping upon the polished surface as you glance towards the door. You don’t have much time. She’ll find you soon enough. You just hope it’s after your plan is in motion.

You carefully step around the desk and tiptoe towards her ornate wooden cabinet, one of the finer pieces of furniture in this office. Too bad you can’t admire the details in the dark, though you still can’t resist the urge to run your fingers along the twisting vines carved into its frame. Tracing a trail you have many times before as you stood in this exact spot, serving drinks to clients and those to be as such. Never speaking up, never intervening, but listening all the same. Watching with eyes like a hawk for anything to give away potential treachery. And you were good at it, you have to admit.

She trained you well.

+++++

You awake still feeling groggy and unsteady when you rise to your feet but your luck seems to be keeping. You have yet to be discovered and your first night under the stars went surprisingly well, if not a tad cold. You had wrapped your hands under the cover of moonlight before you laid your head to rest and through they now throbbed with discomfort at the tight bindings, they were covered and (hopefully) free of infection.

You have no way to know for sure how far you are from your intended destination, but you know that with your companion you’ll make good time.

The air is crisp when you finally set out. You’re sore and aching having slept on hard ground for the first time in your life, but you can bare the minor discomfort knowing the outcome of something sweeter. You decide to travel at a slower pace for the moment, the absence of any true danger having bolstered your spirits and courage alike. It’s a strange feeling. Having nothing but the beast beneath you and the sounds of the wild for company. It’s quiet, but not like the quiet of an empty house devoid of any love or life. It’s a comforting silence. It’s certainly one you could get used to.

When the sun is highest in the sky you reach a crossroads and a dilemma. Where before your path split in to many smaller ones you were smart enough to know where to head, you would not be misled that easily amongst the misdirection’s that had been set. But here? The road stops, and splits in two definite ways. There’s a post at the fork and you urge your horse closer. Perhaps the names upon the wooden marker will reveal your way- but ah. That would be too easy wouldn’t it? The wood is frustratingly clear. Whether weathered away by the elements or struck off by some outside interference, you see no names, and therefore you have no guidance. Shit.

You stare at the post for far too long as you brain runs away from you. Which way to go, which way to go? Choices, not many, but enough. Think. You need to think. You need to-

The rumbling of your stomach interrupts your train of thought. You need to eat, first, before anything else. You glance back over your shoulder towards the way you have come and you purse your lips. You don’t like stopping, but you’ve made good time. You deserve a break, if nothing else. With your decision made you guide your steed off the beaten path and into the shade of an old tree, dismounting with a thud and letting the reins hang loose. She won’t run from you. She has nowhere else to go. You’re both stuck with each other and you laugh as she nuzzles your neck. You have a feeling that it’s a predicament she doesn’t mind.

You sit yourself down in the dirt, long past caring for the state of your dress or the mud on your shoes. The only thing you care for are your supplies and treasures, and they’re plenty safe, strapped to your body as they are. Yet you long for a small comfort and so you remove your pack and place it at your side as you lean against the trunk of the towering tree. For a moment you just stare up at the green, at the dappled light filtering through the waving branches casting golden specks upon the ground. You reach into your pack for your food and grimace at the level of your supplies. You miss the food. More than many other things, you never lacked in choice of meals. Oh how you would kill for something nice and hearty right about now… You’d have to find somewhere to stock up in the next day or two unless you wanted to be in real trouble. But you can’t do much if you don’t keep yourself and your companion fed. So you let out a long sigh and take a bite of your rations, passing off some to your horse when she cranes her neck down towards you. She takes the morsel eagerly, shaking her head with a sigh of her own as it disappears into her mouth.

“I don’t think you even tasted that,” you chuckle, reaching up to pat the spotted gray of her neck. You lose yourself in thought as you run your hands over her, mind drifting to a not-so-distant past as memories spring forth unbidden.

Not all things had been bad, ‘trapped’ as you were. You longed for the times she would return home, full of tales and stories so fascinating that you hung on her every word. You had no frame of reference, no way to know that the stories she told you were not those meant to be shared with young children. You didn’t know any better. Until you did.

When your steed abruptly pulls away from your hands you snap back into reality just in time to hear the sound of hooves approaching on the road not far from your position. Your heart begins an all too familiar staccato rhythm inside your flesh. They’ve found you. She’s found you. Stupid. You were stupid to think you could relax.

You shoot to your feet and the sudden movement upturns the shape of your bag and its contents spill out upon the ground. You feel a heat rise to your face and a shaking in your hands and you curse yourself, falling to your knees as you try to shove everything back in before-

“Uh, hello?”

Your body freezes, heart stopping as you are stooped over, back facing your captor. An eerie chill like nothing you’ve ever felt before runs down your spine as your fiery orange hair spills down your back. There’s footsteps now and a sharp spike of fear has your body shaking as you rise to your feet.

You can’t believe you let anyone sneak up on you. You can’t believe it. She’s never going to let you live this down.

“Are you okay?” the voice asks and you frown, a realization coming to your that has you turning.

This can’t be one of her goons. You don’t recognize the voice, nor the face that greets you with warm brown eyes and a lopsided grin. Her features are lit up by the midday sun, making her eyes shine with a warmth you never thought possible form a single person. You stare wide-eyed and when she takes a step towards you, you take one back. You watch her smile droop and you feel almost naked as her eyes roam over your form. You wonder what she’s thinking about, the way her eyes linger a tad too long on your face before flitting away to the horse at your side. She doesn’t move any closer and you watch her equal parts curiosity and fear. She’s wearing on off-white button up top with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and long green-grey pants, which makes you snap your gaze back to her face as you watch her for any sign of movement. The only other woman you’ve known to wear pants is-

“Hey.” The softness of her tone has your body betray you as you feel yourself relax. She doesn’t mean to cause you harm. You don’t think, “What’s your name?” she asks you and you open your mouth to answer, pausing for a few moments before you find your words.

“Annie,” you lie, “Annie Kane.”

“Well Annie. Nice to meet you. I’m Julia Ortega.” She sticks her arm out, fingers splayed open and posture inviting. And there’s something about her…

You reach out and her eyes move down to the stained bandages that cover your hand. You halt and watch as her brows draw inwards. But you are no coward and grab her hand in yours with a firm grip, shaking once before withdrawing with a grimace.

“What happened?” she asks, nodding at your hands and of course she would ask. You’re an anomaly to her. A strange woman out in the forest, her dress singed and person in a state.

“I got burnt,” you reply. Not a lie. Not going to elaborate either.

“What?” She grins again at the expression sends a shiver of… something through you, “Did your mother never tell you not to play with fire?” her eyebrow quirks upwards in an expression of mischief. But you don’t smile, or laugh. In fact you even feel your eyes well up with tears (curse your stupid emotions) and your face grows warm as you clamp your lips shut. Through your blurred vision you see her eyes go wide, “Oh mierda,” she curses to herself.

“It’s fine,” you croak, rubbing your muck covered sleeve over your face to dry your eyes, “I’m fine.” Are you?

“Are you?” she mirrors how you think so well and the disbelief of hearing your own thoughts aloud shocks the tears into stopping, “I mean…” she continues, “You’re out here all alone, in the middle of, well nowhere really. At a crossroads with a horse that doesn’t even have a saddle…” she trails off as she leans to the side, trying to look past you at the haphazardly filled bag at your feet. You grip the straps of your satchel tightly, “What are you running from?” she poses it as a joke, you think, with the way a soft laugh leaves her mouth. A laugh that all but stops when she meets your eyes, and the raw fear you must be expressing through the twisting features of your face, “I was joking!” she spreads her arms out in one quick motion and you flinch away, almost tripping over your pack.

Your heart is thundering in your chest and you’d be amazed if she couldn’t hear it. Your vision begins to tunnel, your head feels light and your breaths feel wrong as they leave you. You turn around to face your horse and you want to run. More than anything you want to flee from this woman who found you with your back turned and your guard down. But your strength seems to fail you as you thread your fingers through the long mane of your companion. Where would you go? You don’t even truly know where you are. You can feel your mare’s warmth at your fingertips but you can’t hear anything by the beat of your heart so loud you feel as if yours eardrums will burst.

There’s a sound behind you and your mouth opens and closes like a fish you watched die up on the riverbank once a long time ago. It had fled from the water, running from some unseen predator and you had found it laying upon smooth water-polished rocks, flopping about as it gasped for life mere inches from the source. You feel like that fish right now. Gasping out and getting nothing in return. You’re lost. And you are very well aware of the timer that has been set on you. That you’ve set on yourself. You have to run. You have to go. But you won’t be able to outrun her or outsmart her. What happened back there? A fluke. Pure luck. And why do you feel so cold? You feel sweat running down your back making your skin sticky and gross and there’s a pressure in your head like it’s been stuffed with one of those feather-filled pillows you love so much.

There’s a darkness encroaching at the edges of your vision much like when the sun flees the sky to give way to night but you can still see the light shining down from up high. What’s wrong with you? No matter how much you blink the shadows keep coming. They won’t go away. You’re trapped, scared, sick? You’re running on luck and faith and your supplies are getting low and you’re stuck in the wilds and this was such a truly bad idea. Why did you ever think-

There’s a soft thud from somewhere you can’t place. Even if you had wanted to you couldn’t. You can’t even see through the fuzzy grey that seems to obscure your vision but it’s finally quiet and you sigh as you relax into whatever sculpted surface you’re laying upon.

Laying? When did you lay down?

“Annie?” That voice. The woman. Julia. She sounds close. Far too close.

You dare to crack an eye open to see a face full of concern staring down at you. She smiles though its wobbly at the edges and from this angle…

You blink and go to move away when you realize it’s her you’re lying on. But you move too fast and your head starts to swim once again.

“Hey don’t move so soon.” A hand on your arm and you yank the appendage away, almost throwing yourself to the ground again with your momentum.

“Don’t touch me,” you think you mumble but your words feel heavy on your tongue and you’re not sure what truly passes through your suddenly dry lips. You scoot away still, eyes closed and hands braced on the earth until you no longer feel her presence so close it could burn you. You’re not sure how long you sit there with the warmth of the sun upon your face but when you finally feel (mostly) like yourself again you open your eyes to see Julia crouched an arm’s length away in front of you.

You eye her with a squint as she holds out a glass bottle. You see what looks like it used to be a saddlebag attached to her belt, its flap unsecured. You look back to the bottle and at the clear liquid swimming about within.

“It’s water,” she tells you and she shakes the bottle for emphasis, “Please. Drink.” You know taking things from strangers is a big no, but you don’t really have much choice with your own supplies as low as they are. And so you reach out with a hand that you can see is shaking and take the offering, lifting the bottle to your lips and drinking down deep. You didn’t realize how thirsty you were and you almost drop the bottle as some of the cool water goes down the wrong way, causing a coughing fit which has you doubling over and almost retching onto the ground.

“Ay dios mío,” comes the exasperated sigh as the bottle is pried from your fingers and you’re finally able to take a full breath. Your horse nickers at your back and you feel her gently nudge you between your shoulder blades so you turn around from your seated position in the dirt to reach out and place a hand to her face. She’s warm, and familiar, solid beneath your fingers and it helps ground you even more than the present company. It’s a while before Julia speaks again, “What’s your mare called? she asks.

“Ophelia.”

“That’s a nice name.”

You smile to yourself.

“So.” You turn back and look at her as you wipe the spit from your lips and smooth down the tattered and fragile skirt of your dress, “Are you going to tell me why you’re out here?” She grins down at you from where she leans against a nearby tree and something about that expression has you wanting to smile back. A feeling which you push down deep as you simply stare at her without speaking, “Fine fine. Keep your secrets. But unless you know where you’re going, you may get lost out here fairly quickly.”

“And what makes you think I don’t know where I’m going?” you shoot back as you wobble to your feet, leaning against the hulk of your steed for support. She looks at you pointedly, gestures at your dress, then at your horse sans saddle.

“Looks to me like you were in a rush,” she tilts her head and the long dark braid which had previously been concealed behind her wide shouldered form peaks out from behind her back, “And it can be mighty dangerous out here for a woman. Especially one who is alone, and injured.”

“What are you?” you sneer, “A detective??” And to that she grins even wider, the expression lighting up her face as if you had just told the most hilarious joke in the world. And it infuriates you for a reason you can’t fathom. As if you’re being left out of a joke, purposefully being excluded, “What’s so funny?” you huff as you cross your arms and straighten up to your full height.

You’re taller than her. Not by much but the ground beneath your feet is slightly elevated, just enough for you to peer over her head and at her horse tied up to the post back out on the road. Splotched brown and white hide and you watch as its flicks its cream coloured tail to swat at something on its flank.

“Oh nothing,” she says in an airy tone, drawing your attention back to her and you know she’s lying, especially with the look she’s giving you, “So?” she asks.

“So what?”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

You don’t have much, but you have your pride and so you stare her down with a tight-lipped expression, “Yes,” you lie, for the second time to her.

“Good. That’s good then.” You watch her eye twitch slightly as she turns and starts to head back to her own steed. You think she’s finally going to leave you in peace as she steps up and rests herself in a worn leather saddle but instead she turns her head back to you, “Just in case!” she raises her voice and juts a thumb over her shoulder, “Closest town is a day and a half travel back that way.” You look the way she’s pointing and a sigh of relief leaves you as the tension floods from your shoulders, “Just in case.” You can see her smile still from here before she nudges her steed and heads off the way you had come.

Now why would she be going down there? Whatever. It’s none of your business. You wait and watch and it’s only when she’s out of your sight that you turn and bend and begin packing your bag anew. Now that you have the time.

A day and a half. You should be able to make it.

You sling your bag onto your back and readjust its weight, making sure the satchel at your hip is still secure before you haul yourself onto your horses back, “Come on girl,” you mutter as you pat her neck and get her going, “The sooner we get to a town. The sooner this can be over.”

+++++

That night you sink into a dream. Or more accurately, you slip and fall headfirst into a memory. And why wouldn’t you? It is a fresh one after all.

You’re standing in front of the drink cabinet as your fingers find a small wooden button and with the faintest of clicks the front door pops open. You lower it slowly into its resting position before you reach in and pull a few bottles forwards. You can hear movement downstairs but you ignore it in favour of twisting and pulling out corks, working as fast as you can as the shaking in your hands worsens. You reach behind you for the desk, your fingers closing around the pile of cloth as you grab a fistful of strips tightly (too tight) and upturn the bottle over your hand.

You feel the alcohol soak into the material and run between your fingers, the sleeves of your dress soaking up the liquor as readily as a drunkard having a good night but you couldn’t care less.

The bottle empties quickly (too quickly) and you know where you want the epicenter of the fire to be. That fucking desk. You stand before it, bottle and mind abandoned as you stare down at its solid form in the dark. Part of you wishes you had a better view of your work. Another part of you though, is grateful that you are bathed in shadows if only to obscure the blood stains upon its surface that no normal eye could see. They’re not there truly. Not now. Not anymore. You were always good at getting rid of evidence but you could never seem to scrub your mind as clean as you did her furniture. The images of bloodied faces, missing teeth and burst eyeballs will forever haunt you.

Like they are right now. Whispers at your back and the faintest of ghostly touches gracing your neck…

You take a deep breath to steady your nerves. You have to go through with this. You can’t be a part of this family anymore with all its secrets and plots and after this you will be on your own for the first time in your life. But it’ll be better that way. You don’t need her to take care of you and you don’t want to have to depend on her your whole life. Now that you’re grown you have a chance to run. A chance to start anew. A chance to find something better.

You shake your head and take a breath before you smear the soaked strips upon the surface of the desk, spreading them out as evenly as you can while still leaving some leftover in your grasp. You hear the braying of horses outside and you hope more than anything that it’s just the stable hands. You can’t care about that right now and you round to the other side of the desk as you pull the draws open one by one. These are where you deposit the rest of the fabric, the colourless in the dark liquid soaking into papers and books alike and you smile, a cruel expression that can’t sit right on your face but no one else is here to see it. No one else will be.

And then the doorbell rings.

You fumble with the last lot of strips, holding them close to your chest as your heart stutters behind your ribs.

There wasn’t supposed to be company tonight, you had checked her books. You stay frozen on the spot as you strain to listen, only inching forwards towards the door as you hear the entrance to the manor open. You hear her voice speak out.

“Nox! Jake! Not that it’s not great to see you,-” a brief pause, “-but come inside quickly. I need your help.”

“What’s wrong love?” you hear Nocturne ask.

“I can’t find her.” There’s another sound which you’re too far away to pick up on even as you press your ear right up again the door, but it sounds like… “I can’t find her,” her voice breaks, and part of you breaks with it as your heart drops into your stomach.

Shit. Shit! What the fuck were they doing here? Her alone you could take, maybe. No. Not take. If she wanted to she could floor you with a single punch. You’ve seen all too well what she is capable of. Though you know you’re faster than her and if it were just her you could flee easily enough. But her hounds were relentless.

And like an hourglass tracking the time of some unseen task, you feel the last grain of sand drop.

+++++

A sound rouses you from sleep, a rustle in the trees which has you sitting upright so fast that you fear you pull something in your back. You pull your shawl further around yourself and the tightness in your chest sends a spark of pain through your body that has you gasping. You push past the pain and peer around through the dark, for the source of the noise, but you can’t see or hear anything else.

You turn your head to check on Ophelia to find her munching away on something in the grass at her feet. You smile and reach out to stroke her neck, your fingers spasming as you stretch them and you grimace before returning your hand to your side.

You have no way of telling what the time is and the pull of sleep doesn’t feel as alluring as before, not with that dream you just had, emotions sitting heaving in your gut. And so you get out your tinderbox, your old faithful and clear out a patch out dirt, brushing aside twigs and leaves until the ground before you seems flat enough.

Its much harder to strike it then the last time with your fingers swaddled as they are but you are determined to shed some light and so you struggle for a long while, the firesteel constantly shifting in your addled grip but you are finally able to produce a spark. The light is minimal but it does wonders to calm your nerves and you release a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. You inspect your hands, your arms, wrapped up and safe and you can see the staining on the bandages but all you do is sigh. At least now you’re not regretting packing more medical supplies than food.

You know your own shortcomings.

It’s painful, when you start to unwind your wrappings and you know it wasn’t smart to bind your wounds without proper care first, but its better to forgo a few layers of skin then to loose the entire limb from an infection. You watch as skin peels away from your arm and you grit your teeth so hard you fear they’ll crack. You’re shaking again, feeling dizzy and nauseous and a pungent odor invades your senses that causes a spark of dread to form in your gut. You reach for your water and pour the cooling liquid over your arm. The temporary relief is a godsend and you close your eyes with a sigh as the blazing heat subsides, albeit briefly. It returns with a retribution soon enough and you can’t stifle the sob that escapes through your clamped lips.

Drawing your knees up to your chest as close as you dare you stare intently into the flames, leaving your arm held out at your side as you wait for it to drip dry in the cool night air. You do your best to ignore the throbbing pain that would have you curled into a ball were you any less weak of will but you can’t deny the facts that your situation presents you. You’re in pain (with the signs of infection clearly present), you’re alone (with an aching feeling gnawing away at your insides) and you can’t escape the feeling of being watched (eyes on you hidden in the night.)

Shudders run through you as you cry softly, hidden under the cover of darkness.

+++++

You’re off at first light. You didn’t dare go back to sleep and so you’re struggling to keep awake in the saddle as you head down the road at a light trot. Though you know you have made good time (thanks in part to the helpful direction), you still can’t get rid of the feeling that you’re being followed. More than a few times you look back over you shoulder, convinced you heard a sound in the trees or the echo of hoofbeats in the distance. But each time there is nothing and all you have to show for your vigilance are aching hands and pain behind your eyes.

If that woman had been telling the truth, you hope that you’ll reach a town just before nightfall. You have to be careful without knowing who you could trust. At least not until you had your bearings, which could take a while given your state. Accommodation was a first priority. You need a proper nights rest on a soft bed and you’re convinced half your problems could be solved by that alone. Wishful thinking. Funds weren’t an issue (something that your pilfering had seen to) and so the next step after that would be finding someplace for your horse. Someplace safe.

Safe…

You really had a chance now didn’t you? At being safe. At being free.

You feel a smile grow on your face and you laugh into the winds as you urge Ophelia faster. You could be safe.

Your hope is renewed and you thunder down the path without a care to who might hear you.

+++++

You reach the town while the sun is still up. ‘Devil Falls’ the large sign at the towns border reads.

Charming.

Looking as if it goes through the heart of the town, a wide street of mismatched cobblestone continues ahead before curving out of your view, lined either side by store fronts and buildings the likes of which you’ve never seen in person. It’s amazing. The road is full of life and bustle and you are regarded with curious but not distrustful eyes as you head along on your too tall horse. Still, the attention on you has a heat creeping under your skin and you tense atop Ophelia as you head deeper into the town.

There’s whispers that follow you as you go. People talking behind raised hands as they look in your direction but whenever you turn your head to meet them head on they pull apart as if they had not been speaking at all. Is it purely because you are a newcomer? Or is there something else at play here that you are unaware of? Suddenly all the eyes on you feel sinister. You need to get off the road.

You swallow down the nervous lump in your parched throat, a cool flush running up the back of your neck and you finally see your saving grace. A side street, out of the way yet wide enough for both you and Ophelia. You just need a moment. That’s all. Just a few seconds to catch your breath and collect your thoughts and then you’ll be right as rain.

Right?

Though as you turn into the alley, away from the crowds and the gazes feeling as if they are picking holes into the back of your skull you can still hear them. Whispers at the edges of your senses, curling around your ears and causing you to shudder. You feel faint and you slide off your Ophelia’s back, almost crumpling to the ground as your exhaustion wraps around your shoulders like a heavy blanket in the dead of winter.

Your eyelids feel so heavy and you lean against the faded brick wall as you tilt your head back to regard the stringy branches of a sickly tree overhead. You feel like that tree right now. Gaunt, lifeless, and like a gust of wind could blow you over at any moment.

You close your eyes.

Breath.

Just breath.

/////

“Breath with me now. In.”

You breath in through your nose.

“And out.”

You blow out a long breath through your small lips and when you look up you’re staring into eyes of emerald.

“Feeling better?” she smiles and you nod, “Good,” she chuckles, the expression softening her normally stern features as she ruffles your mop of orange waves with a freckled hand. She rises to her feet and rounds her desk to take a seat behind it, “You gotta learn to keep that temper under control kiddo,” she speaks pointedly to you as she leans backwards.

“But he called me a name!” you protest as you ball your chubby hands into fists and stomp your foot against the ground, the motion less satisfying against the thick rug beneath your feet than it would have been on the planked floor, “And you told me to stick up for myself!”

“I did,” she agrees with a slight nod and she leans forwards, resting her elbow upon the mostly cleared surface of her desk, “But I’m sure you misheard him. He never calls you names. Does he?”

“No,” you admit as you look down at your feet before pouting and turning your eyes to the young boy standing barely a few feet away, “But I heard you!” you shout and point to which he turns to face you completely.

“I didn’t say anything!” he protests.

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“DID TOO!!”

“DID NOT!!!”

“ENOUGH!!" she slams a fist down on the surface of her old wooden desk with enough force that the ink pot in which her quill sits tips over, the porous surface readily drinking up the dark ichor, “Fuck!” she spits and you take a small step back as you stare at her, wide eyed and unmoving as she rights the pot yet continues to stare at the stain growing larger with each second. She’s not looking at you, hasn’t looked at you since she shouted and you don’t like the feeling in the room any more. You never like it when she’s angry. It scares you.

“Sorry…” you mumble, voice quiet and head bowed and when you hear her chair scrape back you flinch.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” she speaks with a tone you know all too well. You see her polished boots as she draws to a stop in front of you, “I want you to be better.” She rests a hand on your shoulder and you shudder, “Alec. You can leave.”

“Yes Ma’am…” you hear the boy mumble before his rapid footsteps fade fast from your range of hearing. Then its just you two. And your heart is pounding wildly in your chest

/////

Your heart is still pounding when you come back to your senses to find that you are now sitting on the ground, legs to your chest and head buried in your knees. You’re trembling and you vision blurs with tears and you’re so so tired that you could just fall asleep as you are but you wouldn’t dare.

You have to get up. You have to.

And so, much like before, you unfurl and stumble to your feet, grabbing the reins for assistance. You don’t head back out onto the main street even with night already falling and with less people around. You don’t feel like yourself. And so you head the other way in hope that’ll you’ll find something better than whatever the (not quite) straight and narrow path may afford you.

You keep to yourself. One hand gripping Ophelia’s reins while the other keeps your shawl tight around you and you trudge through the quickly darkening settlement. Right when you think you’ll trip over your own feet from the lack of lumos the streets come alive with pops of flame igniting in the street lamps dotted through the town. You feel a tad safer yet no less tired.

When you come across a large building tucked away far from the main hubbub of the, you almost fold in on yourself with relief. A relief that is dashed when you round the front to find that this place, whatever it is, is closed. Your shoulders sag and you almost fall and you have to lean against your horse to make sure you don’t. You inspect the property with a critical eye as you search for any signs of life and upon spying no movement within you round to the back side of the building and that’s when you spy it.

An open window.

Jackpot.

Before you is a seemingly abandoned, cornered in yard. Perfect. The lack of any fenced boundary makes your life easier as you guide Ophelia into a sheltered corner before looping her reins around a trunk of a tree.

“Stay here girl,” you whisper to her as you tangle you hand in hair mane, “Hopefully I won’t see you till morning.” And then with a quick pat your turn and head towards the building.

It’s old and almost falling apart but you’ll take anything at this point. You’re desperate.

There’s a small porch area before you and the posts holding the ceiling up seem sturdy enough to climb, and so that’s what you start to do. Using the post to steady yourself you pull your body upwards as you lift a leg, place a foot firmly on the railing, before you place your other beneath you and lift yourself until you are standing upright. You stay still for a few beats but upon hearing no change from inside the house (that you now deem vacant) you turn and grab the poll with both hands, plant your feet at its base and pull yourself up. You don’t need to go far and it must be the adrenaline coursing through you at the prospect of breaking into an abode that keeps you from experiencing the pain you’re sure you’ll be feeling tomorrow. A few inches above the railing is all you need to reach the second landing and soon you are grabbing at the small railing posts there as you haul yourself upwards, your feet kicking uselessly in the air until you grab at the railing and your worn boots find purchase. And still no sign that you’ve been discovered. Your luck really is holding out for you.

You swing a leg over the railing in order to reach the landing proper but as you move to do so you realize too late that a part of your skirt is trapped between your leg and the post, and that when you twist to pull your other leg over you begin to fall. Any other time you could catch yourself, you’re sure of it. But you are far from your best and with the added weight upon your back you practically fling yourself into the wooden deck with a loud thud.

You do your best to stifle the cry of pain as a result of crushing your arm beneath you and instead you roll gingerly onto your side as you groan. Even the adrenaline isn’t enough to keep the pulsing pain in your limb at bay and you cradle the affected arm to your chest as you roll onto your feet. You shuffle towards the open window, your only salvation against the misfortunes of the evening, and grab the ledge, maneuvering yourself into the dark room as carefully as you can.

It's a decently sized space and with the moon now in the sky you have a slightly better view of the room you find yourself in. Some kind of office that’s nowhere near as fancy as hers had been. There’s a desk in front of you, not quite in the center of the room, not even at the head of the room. It’s situated to the side, facing a strangely ornate fireplace that’s at odds with the sparsely furnished and, if you’re being honest, rather untidy and mismatched room. There’s barely enough room between the desk and the wall to fit a chair but someone had managed anyways. The surface of said desk is covered in documents, newspaper clippings and a few bottles of ink, some open and unstoppered and you click your tongue at the sight. Whoever this place belonged to obviously didn’t take much pride in the conditions of their working space, and you must be almost delusional with exhaustion if that is what you’re thinking about.

The laughter that bubbles up from inside you is not a happy sound and when you turn within the room and spot a high-backed chair you stumble towards it, caring little about any sound you make, being past the point of simply being tired. You shrug the pack off and let it drop to the floor, barely registering the thump it makes as you turn and fall into the chair.

It’s so soft that you release a quiet moan as your body melts into the cushions at your back and you close your eyes as you prepare to settle in.

Until you hear movement coming from the floor below you.

You struggle to reopen your eyes, sleep so desperately wanting to claim you as its ward and now that your adrenaline has fled, the aches and pains descend upon you with a savage vengeance. You try to push yourself to your feet but your body won’t obey quite like it should. You feel yourself grab onto the arms of the chair and you watch as your fingers struggle to find purchase, grabbing weakly at the plush and when you try to rise, a blinding pain shoots through your arms. You fall back into the chair with a small cry of anguish now that you can clearly hear footsteps but you’re powerless. Your body failing when you need it the most and try as you might you simply cannot stay awake.

Your eyes close without your permission and you feel yourself fall into a sleep deeper than any you’ve ever had.

+++++

You spin, hastily returning to the cabinet as you grab for more bottles and begin to pour the booze haphazardly about the room. On the floor, the rug, splashing it up the curtains, and most especially soaking the lounge right by the front of the room. The lounge that is currently blocking the doors. You return to the cabinet, a squelching sound reaching your ears when your boots make contact with the rug and you hastily open more bottles. You have to. You have to make sure that it’s enough to burn everything. Or at least create a big enough distraction for you to get away. It’s made all the harder by the shakes that have taken over your form and when you hear footsteps ascending the stairs, one such bottle slips from your grasp.

Its painstakingly slow yet you’re powerless to stop the events unfolding and can only watch in horror as the bottle smashes at your feet.

You freeze.

The advancement of steps on the stairs stop.

You are the first to move.

All pretense of stealth abandoned you grab as many bottles as you can hold and begin to throw them with all your strength at every part of the room not previously covered by your movements. You ignore the heavy pounding at the door even as it becomes all you can hear. It’s so loud and you’re so scared but you’ve started this now and you won’t (can’t) stop. Your hands and arms are soaked as is the bodice of your dress but you keep on going. Right up until the doors of the office begin to crack. It’s then that you retreat behind the desk, grabbing one more bottle for good measure as you back up against the window.

Light is shining through the fractures in the wood appearing one after the other as something slams against the door hard enough that the couch begins to shift. You take what you know to be your last moments alone to undo the latch of the lower window pane and lift it up before there’s a horrible screeching sound at your back that has you spinning around and almost loosing your balance amidst the dim and vapors. You watch with wide eyes as the couch is shoved along the floor, leaving enough room that when the doors fly open after it you can see the vague outline of three figures standing just outside in the hall.

You don’t even think.

You hurl the last bottle you have at the first figure that steps into the room but its not her. Too short. You can’t see who it is from where you are but you know you hit a target when the sound of shattering glass sounds like music to your ears, as do the curses that run into the dark.

You can’t see them.

But they can see you.

And you wonder what you look like.

She speaks your name sounding confused at first and angry the second time. You don’t give her the satisfaction of hearing your voice (you know your words would fail you). As you bring up the small box that you had long ago stashed on your person she speaks your name again but this time she’s scared. She’s scared of you.

“Don’t do this. Please. You’re not thinking straight,” she speaks in the hushed tone that she so often uses with you but you can barely hear her over the rush in your ears and you understand then that she’s not scared of you.

But for you.

The almost deafening rush becomes a roaring torrent as you open the box, slip the fingers of one hand into the loop of firesteel and grab the rock of flint in your other.

“Hey. Hey. Easy now.” She holds her arms out, non-threatening, showing her intention and your eyes flick from where her face should be to the two people flanking her, “Come on. We can talk about this. You’re not-” She takes a single step towards you.

And that’s all it takes.

You don’t give her the chance to finish her sentence. You strike steel against flint.

And your world goes up in flames.

+++++

You wake abruptly, memories of an all-consuming fire making you feel as if your skin is still alight as you blink back against a blinding light that for a few moments makes you think you are still back there in that room. Though the warmth in your bones is not that of a raging fire, but of sunlight and sickness and when you turn your head this way and that your vision clears enough for you to see you are not where you remember falling unconscious.

For one, this room is a lot nicer. It’s furnished pleasantly with warm colours and personal touches and you are lying on an actual bed, meant to accommodate someone of your size which is… odd. What’s even stranger is that your arms have been redressed with care and precision and all you can do is frown as your head swims with unanswered questions.

With a startling awareness you realize your gear is gone and you throw back the patterned covers as you swing your legs out of the bed. Bare feet touch carpet and now your boots are gone and can this get any worse?

As it turns out, yes. Yes it can.

You hear a humming outside the room, a voice and a tune you do not recognize and your body locks up as the footsteps grow closer.

Keep going.

Keep going. Please.

You’re holding your breath as they stop outside the door but it seems as if your luck has come to an end. The doorknob begins to turn and in a panic you grab the closest thing to you, a ceramic water pitcher on the nightstand. You raise it above your head as the door begins to open and you spy a flash of curly orange hair that sets your nerves on fire all over again. But the height is all wrong. And the person who enters the room is someone you’ve never seen before.

A woman with a tangled braid of orange locks who’s carrying a round basin in her sturdy arms in which you can hear water sloshing about. The tune she was humming halts as soon as her green eyes meet yours and it’s a stalemate as neither of you move and the silence stretches into something stifling.

“You’re awake?”

Your hand, already injured and aching and shaking the longer you held the pitcher over you head releases its grip on the object. It hits the cover of the bed before bouncing off, and falling to the ground where it shatters at your feet.

Shattering at your feet.

Footsteps on stairs.

“Here let me-“ the woman places the basin on the ground and starts towards you and you pull your legs back as you throw yourself to the other end of the bed, scrambling to get away from this stranger who has you cornered in a room that now feels too small. You must have let out a cry as she stops and steps back, arms held up and palms facing you, “It’s okay! It’s okay!” she says but how can you trust a word she says when you are at her mercy? Maybe it’s the fear she sees in your eyes but the frown on her face seems like an expression ill-suited for her. She looks over her shoulder at the door half open before turning back to you, “Hold on. Wait right there. I’ll be back.” She goes to leave before stopping in the doorway, “I mean it. You are safe here whether you choose to believe me or not. But you’re in no condition to travel.” Her words are softened by the smile she casts at you before she is gone and rushing away.

You don’t know why you listen to her but you do. You stay in place with your legs tangled in the covers with your heart hammering and your forehead slick with sweat that you can feel dripping into your eyes.

You don’t have to wait for long before you hear more footsteps. Someone different. A heavier and longer stride that draws closer and has your nerves coiling around your heart until the door is once more pushed open, and you are met by a familiar face.

Your eyes go wide.

“Julia?”

Chapter Text

“You’re awake,” she looks at you with a smile and bags under her eyes as the door behind her shuts. She goes to approach and you shuffle further back as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed and turns to face you, “How do you feel?”

“My horse, and my-my bags,” the words tumble from your lips, “Where’s my gear?” you feel your heart speeding up in your chest as you grip the covers beneath you, “My pack, my-my stuff, my steed!?” You stare at Julia wide-eyed and she raises her arms.

“Cálmate Annie! Your companion is fine and being taken care of by a friend.” You watch as she slips off the covers and kneels on the floor facing the bed, “As for your bags I put them under here for safe keeping.” Her voice is muffled as she temporarily vanishes from your view only for you to hear a dull thump followed by a short string of swearing when she sits back up, rubbing the back of her head with one hand, “Here,” she grimaces and when she holds out her other arm, your pack and satchel are gripped in her hand.

You dart forwards and snatch your belongings from Julia’s grasp with enough vigor that she smacks her forehead on the brass bedframe, swearing again as you retreat to your spot once more, clutching your bags tightly to your chest.

“Did you look through them?” you ask, staring directly into her eyes as she regards you from her position on the floor.

“No of course not,” she replies and you feel a modicum of control return yet still you purse your lips and breath out hard through your nose as you will your heart to cease its stuttered and panicked hammering. You watch each other for a, neither of you looking away and when you do finally calm down enough to soften your iron grip upon your possessions the sparks of pain that shoot through your arms make you grimace, “Are you okay?” Julia asks, voice laden with concern. Loaded question and not one you can answer easily. Or will.

It takes a few moments for you to find your words, all the while you can see her watching with a small frown.

“Where am I?” You end up replying and you spy a quirk to Julia’s lips before she responds.

“What do you remember?”

“I fell asleep in a chair?” She chuckles as she gets to her feet and sits on the bed.

“I’d say it was a little more serious than that, but yes. You also broke in my home.”

“Home?” you question, “It looked more like an office to me.”

“Ah well,” she rubs the back of her neck, “It’s also where I work,” she gives you a sheepish smile.

“That explains the mess of papers and the abysmal organization skills,” you shoot at her.

She shrugs and her eyes flit away, “I inherited the business fairly recently from my mentor,” she says and you see a faint shine to her eyes.

You soften your tone a touch, regretting your sharp tongue and quick temper, “What happened?” you ask.

“He died. Was murdered.”

“Who by?”

She gives you a funny look then, eyes scanning your face for… something. Before she sighs and her shoulders slump, “I have an idea, though I have no solid proof yet. But I’ll find out the truth. It’s what I’m good at.” You snort. You can’t help it.

“Yeah, sure,” you chuckle, “What makes you better suited than the common man?”

“For starters, I’m a woman.”

“Oh ha ha,” you shake your head, “I hope that’s not all?” you quirk an eyebrow and you remember that grin she gave you back under the cover of the trees, the same expression she shows you now. Shine in her eyes gone and replaced by a humor that has her lips stretching to reveal slightly pointed canines.

“Welllllll….” She drawls and you can’t help but roll your eyes, “It is my job to find things out.” The way she says those words makes your blood freeze and your fingers tighten on your pack so hard you feel as if your nails though blunted, will tear through cloth.

“Is it now?” you ask and you’re surprised that your voice stays as steady as it does.

“I’m a detective.”

Ah. That’s why she laughed. You swallow and hope she doesn’t notice how tense you – of course she will, idiot. She’s a detective. She’s already staring at you after you know you’ve been quiet for too long but you feel as if there’s a string being pulled taut between you both and you’re not going to be the one to break it. So you clamp your lips shut and let your gaze drift to the door, unwilling to stare into eyes of golden brown. There’s a strange lightness in your chest, you can feel your pulse inside your throat and a cold flush runs through you as you struggle to maintain your composure. You’re in the worst possible place you could be. At the mercy of a stranger who could very well have ties to the sister you’ve just run away from. Which begs the question. Why hasn’t she turned you in yet?

“Annie?” Julia speaks and you turn your head to see she’s staring down at where you’re still gripping your bags and so you do the same, only to see a slowly spreading patch of red creep around the side of your hand. You release your possessions which fall upon the soft cover of the bed and watch your fingers briefly spasm before you turn your hands palms up. Stains of red bloom across the slowly diminishing not-quiet-white areas of the bandages, “You’re bleeding.” You fight not to roll your eyes, only because there’s a dull throb that has begun at the base of your skull and you know such movement would only exacerbate the pain.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you deadpan instead, lifting your head to meet the concerned gaze of another.

“I should go get Anathema,” Julia rises from the bed, causing your packs to list to the side and you extend a leg to stop them from rolling onto the floor.

“The woman from before?” you ask to which you receive a nod in reply, “Why?” you ask as you stare up at the bronze-skinned woman with a frown, “It’s just blood.”

“Does it not hurt?” she replies to which you shrug and look away.

“No more than anything else,” you mumble before a laugh leaves you that you had no intention of letting loose. It’s an odd sound. The typical laugh is meant to be a joyous sound, full of life, or at least a tad sarcastic. This one is neither. This one scares you and you clamp your lips shut just as quickly as they had parted as you scoop your packs, nestled in the crook of your knee, closer into your body, “Sorry,” you find yourself apologizing. Just as you had done with her.

“What for?” comes the reply you weren’t expecting and your head snaps up to see that Julia is closer than she had been before.

“I… don’t know.” And the thing is, unlike the name you gave this former stranger, this was the truth. You grimace and rest the backs of your hands your hands upon the sheets, “It stings,” you tell her as the blood you are trying so hard to keep from soaking into the fabric slowly reaches down towards the covers, “Almost imperceptible amongst the other pain I feel because everything hurts,” the last word is spat from your mouth as a bitterness fills your heart unlike anything else. You shouldn’t have to hurt. You shouldn’t have to go through this. Any of this. Why couldn’t she have just- You’re wiping at your face before you can stop yourself, banishing the trails of tears barely formed and you wonder if you smear blood on your cheeks also. If the look on Julia’s face is anything to go by, than you are glad there are no mirrors in this room.

“I’ll go get Anathema,” she repeats softer and this time you let her go.

The door doesn’t shut all the way when she leaves, left open just enough for you to see the flash of orange hair on the other side. Like before a sharp shot of fear has you going rigid before you take a deep breath and resist the urge to clench your hands amidst the folds upon which you sit. There’s already enough blood dotting the sheets.

Whispers of words on the other side of the door and you lean forwards as you strain to listen but the voices are spoken in low hushed tones and you cannot hear a single word. All you gain from your failed eaves-dropping is an ice-cold shock that seeps into your bones (doing little to cool the fever you feel within) and a lingering sense of paranoia that has your eyes darting to the window to your right through which golden light shines.

Motes of dust float upon the beams, drifting like tiny creatures that only exist within the rays of the sun and you find yourself turning from the door ajar as you reach for the tiny twirling forms. It’s quiet, in this room. As you wave your hand through the light you listen to the sounds of the world outside. The noise of a town waking up from slumber but it’s distant, muffled. By your location or state of mind you’re not sure. All that you can be sure of is that you feel sick and tired yet… content. Safe? You’re not sure. There’s so much you are not too sure about but what you do know is this. You have no idea who these people are, nor they you yet still they’re helping. Healing you. But as another thought crosses your mind the small smile that had found its way upon your face falls.

Would they continue to help if they knew who you were?

“Hey…”

The soft voice at your back does little to quell the fear that has you spinning around so quickly you swear you hear your bones crack. Your wide green eyes meet those of the same and you can only bare to look at her for a few seconds before an uneasiness has you directing your gaze at her feet.

“I’m so sorry!” she apologizes and as you watch her take a step forwards you tense up. She stops. You keep on staring, “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she speaks again and you stay silent. It’s tense, the air between you and you shiver, “Julia told me about your hands,” she speaks so softly, as if you are a wounded animal who will run at any given chance. She’s not wrong, “May I see them please.”

Please.

You look up at her, finally, tilt your head and frown as she shows you a warm smile full of kindness. Her smile widens when you meet her eyes and you can only guess it continues to do so when you extend your arms, for you look back to the ground as your arms tremble, held aloft in the open.

“May I sit?” she asks and you nod. She turns her back at first and bends down to retrieve the basin she had left in the middle of the room, hoisting it up onto the covers as gently as she seems to be able. The bed still sways with the movement but stills once she takes a seat next to the silver basin. She’s not too close to you, but close enough that when she takes a gentle hold of your bandaged hands to lay them upon her lap you do not have to adjust your seated and coiled position.

You stare at your hands as she begins to unwrap them.

Your flesh is red and pink and angry, full of blisters and peeled skin most of which sticks to the sickly coloured yellow of the underside of the bandages. You wince. You can’t help it. A small pained gasp leaves your mouth when the hurt catches up to you. This woman, Anathema, pauses in her motions only for a moment and when your pain subsides a touch she begins again.

“So,” she starts to speak, maybe to distract you from the oozing pus and smell of rot, “I may not be classically trained in the art of healing and Julia may be blind to most else when confronted with a pretty woman-” Despite yourself you feel your cheeks heat up, “-but I’ve dealt with enough scrapes and burns to know when an accelerant has been used.” You tense up and your eyes shoot to her face to find her already looking at you, “Did you want to talk about it?”

You open your mouth to say no but no words are spat forth, only a strange croak leaves through your lips that has your face growing warm and your vision blurring. You close your mouth and swallow down your emotion, “I had no choice,” is what you end up saying as you watch one freckled hand reach into the water to retrieve a waterlogged sponge.

“We always have choices,” comes the oddly bitter reply accompanied a sharp pain in your hands as you watch Anathema press the sponge to your raw skin rougher than you think is necessary. You hiss in discomfort and struggle to not pull away.

“Well I didn’t,” you reply, “At least no choices that wouldn’t have seen me in a worse off position.”

“Worse than having almost a third of your body burnt?” Curious eyes look to yours as the washing stops.

“Yes,” you reply. Without a doubt. The woman before you makes a soft sound in the back of her throat before continuing to gently clean your wounds. You mean to look away, you can hardly bear the sight of what you have done to yourself but there’s something in the way her movements seem so fluid, gentle and caring that has your attention completely and you can’t help yourself from answering the question that’s been on your mind since you awoke.

“Why are you helping me?” You swear you see the flicker of a smile upon Anathema’s face before she turns to grab something at her side.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” she replies as she dabs the cleans cloth upon your festering skin, soaking up any water not already evaporated.

“You don’t even know me,” you let out a small laugh of disbelief as the cloth disappears from your view to be replaced by fresh bandages grasped within short fingers, “And you expect me to think that you’re both doing this out of the kindness of your own hearts?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” the reply is soft as is the look she aims your way. Pity. You turn your head and allow yourself to lapse into silence as Anathema wraps your hands. You are both quiet for a good while with only the distant sounds of people going about their lives and the much closer rustling of fabric to fill the silence. You watch Anathema take great care as she redresses your hands, going slowly as not to bump or jar your already aching form. It’s… nice. Nice to have someone care for you. Even if it is a stranger.

Far too soon she is done with her work, moving your hands so they rest gently into your lap as she lets them go. You briefly admire her work, the spotless white and tight (yet not too much) wrappings that encircle and cover your hands.

“How does the rest of you feel?” Anathema asks as she readies the sponge and motions at your face, “Your arms? Your chest? Any pain?” You lean in as you close your eyes and focus on the whisperings of your body.

“My arms feel sore and my chest tight,” you tell her as you feel her swipe the sponge across your cheek, “But not much pain.”

“Hopefully that’s a good sign that your body is already on its way to healing. And not just the deadening of nerves that will no longer be,” Anathema replies and you grimace as you open your eyes.

“Let’s hope.”

She smiles and pats your knee before getting to her feet and taking the basin, now full of ruddy coloured water, into her arms, “Come on!” she juts her head towards the door and you eye her quizzically, “Those sheets need to be changed and a little bit of walking could do you good. You must be hungry anyhow.” At the mention of hunger your stomach growls which causes Anathema to laugh. A sound which has you smiling.

“Food would be good,” you agree. Getting to see this place, even better. You had to be sure that where you were would keep you safe. Well, as safe as you could be considering your predicament. You unfurl your legs and test your balance by gingerly stepping foot upon the ground. You don’t immediately fall over and so you decide to push yourself to your feet slowly while Anathema lets out a low whistle at your side.

“When Julia said you were taller than her, I didn’t believe it.” A smile shines at you framed by bouncing orange curls before Anathema turns and starts towards the door, “Follow me Annie.”

Did you tell her your name? You don’t think you did. Got it from Julia probably. Where else? You turn and regard your bag. Your haversack only has your supplies and tools. Nothing truly incriminating, at least to an outside observer, and so you leave it be. Your hunting pack on the other hand… You slip the strap over your head let it settle across your chest. Now. Your boots. Where…

“Gearing up to go already?” The tone sounds amused as does the expression on Anathema’s face when you look to her and you shake your head.

“My feet are bare,” is all you say and she chuckles.

“Top draw, right hand side,” she points a leg towards a sturdy wooden chest of draws across from you. Inexpensive wood. Different yet… familiar. You shake your head and retrieve your thoughts as you open the drawer and grab a pair of socks from the multitude of pairs that sit nestled in the cramped space, “You don’t have to bring that bag,” Anathema speaks as you slip the socks onto your cold feet.

“I do,” you reply and elaborate no further. You can’t risk it. You won’t. You stand back up and she’s eyeing you differently now. Less kind and more scrutinizing. You can’t help the slight sneer you feel forming on your face. You don’t like people looking at you like that. Least of all a stranger. She must see your expression for she turns to the now open door.

“Come on. Follow me.” She heads from the room, and you follow close behind.

/////

“Did you really travel all by yourself through the woods?” Anathema asks as she leads you towards the stairs.

“I had my horse,” you reply, “Where is she? Julia said she was being taken care of, but I’d like to see her at some point.”

“Chen is with her at our shelter, round the side of the building.”

“Chen?” Another individual you don’t know.

“Well, Wei. That’s his first name.” Then she turns her head to the side with a smirk, “But don’t tell him I told you that.” You frown as she turns back around. What an odd thing to say. You don’t hear any other movement inside the house as Anathema leads you down the flight of stairs. All you can hear are your footfalls and you wonder where Julia went off to. Not that you care. Of course you don’t.

“So. You and this, Wei Chen,” you start, “Do you both work here as well?” you trail off.

“Yep. In different capacities both of us, but yeah.”

“And you like it?”

“I do,” Anathema nods as you both step onto what you assume to be the ground floor. A foyer lays before you, not overly large. To your right there seems to be a drawing room draped in shades of blues and greens. You both turn left, “Julia’s given us both chances at a job and therefore a living that not many other places or people would. Well, technically her mentor extended us the offer,” she adds, “But once he… died… she kept us on.” She falls quiet at the mention of that man again. A touchy subject for them both. For all of them maybe but you have yet to meet this Chen.

“Julia said he was murdered,” you keep your voice soft, as is expected when talking of death, it seems. Anathema nods again as she makes another left and heads down another hallway.

“He was. Julia’s obsessed with finding out who killed him.”

“That’s a detectives job though isn’t it?” you ask. You’ve only ever read about them. However, you’ve had plenty of time to read, “To figure out things like that?” Murder. Death. The strange and the unexplained. You know the police wouldn’t. Now there’s a thought, “What about the police?” you ask, if only to satisfy your curiosity, “Would the murder of a local not be a priority to them?” The laugh that leaves Anathema is an acidic one. Caustic and sharp and it startles you with its volume.

“You would think that wouldn’t you?” she shakes her head as she steps through the open doorway at the end of the hall into a kitchen area, where off to the side a round dark-oak table sits, with three chairs spaced out around it. The floor is a flat stone and even with socks on you can feel the cold emanating from the surface. The walls were a pale white and benchtops a faded brown, a once strong-coloured wood faded by sun and time and eroded by use.

You watch Anathema place the basin onto a long rough textured table before turning to the sink opposite, “But no,” she continues as you pull up a chair, spin it to face her, and take a seat, “Apparently it’s of little importance to them,” she turns on the tap and you watch her grab the basin, “And so they’ve done fuck all,” her tone is sharp and when you watch her dump the dirty water into the sink a good amount of it splashes over the rim and soaks her light blue cotton shirt and wooden panels at her feet all the same, “Shit,” you hear her mumble and look down at herself. You simply sit and watch in silence, the room illuminated by the sun as Anathema washes all evidence of your mending away. As easily as she used to. The stray thought causes you to shudder and you’re glad that Anathema has her back to you.

“Where’s Julia?” you decide to ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. Anathema stops the flow of water, wipes her hands on her deep grey pants and sighs as she turns and rests her elbows upon stand-alone table. 

“Probably visiting her mother. She doesn’t live too far and it is past lunch time.” Food. Your stomach rumbles again, “Speaking of. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” You watch as Anathema turns, scurries off to the far end of the kitchen and throws open a door through which she disappears. You hear the sound of her footsteps getting quieter until you can hardly hear her at all. Alone. You take the chance to unclasp your hunting bag and quickly check that your treasure remains undisturbed. Huh. Seems like Julia really didn’t look through your things. Surprising. When you hear Anathema returns you quickly secure the latch and relax back into your seat. Her arms are laden with bread and jars, the glass of which clinks together as she sets her bounty upon the table at your back. You watch her return briefly to the kitchen to pull a serrated knife from a drawer and take the seat to your right. You shuffle the chair around to face her, “Alright!” she smiles and grabs the loaf, dragging it towards her, “Mind passing me that jar?” She uses the knife to point to the jar at your elbow and you stare at the jagged blade before sliding the small glass container  towards the redhead, “Cheers.”

In the full light you study this woman before you as she slices through the bread. She’s older than you initially thought. Not as old as Julia, you think, but then again you don’t have much experience with people. A couple years younger perhaps? There’s a soft smile on her face and a calm in the green of hers eyes. A compassion to her that you are not used to seeing on such eerily familiar features. You shudder and this time she does catch it, and a look of concern washes the kindness away.

“Are you well?” she asks and places the knife upon the wood of the table’s surface.

“Yes,” you reply, “Just a draft,” you lie.

“The windows are closed,” she points out.

“Well aren’t they just.”

Her concern grows into a grin at your snark and you find yourself mirroring the expression, “I feel like we’re going to get on very well.”

/////

“What is it you do for this, detective agency?” you ask once your small yet filling meal is finished.

“Anything that requires patching together. Whether that be people, clothes, or relationships,” she chuckles, “I also do some medical work for the less fortunate people in this part of town. Though, as I said before, I am not professionally trained.” She shrugs, “That matters little though to the people who have no one else to turn to. And it gives me a certain type of immunity.”

“Oh?”

“Who’s going to dare hurt one of the select few who helps the sick an injured in a place where so many bad things seem to happen,” her smile in sad yet strained at the same time.

“Is this town dangerous?” you ask, resisting the urge to clench your fists.

“Only if you get on people’s bad sides. And go places you shouldn’t. Both things that Julia seems adept at doing,” she grumbles and you watch as she runs her hand through her hair with a groan, “This damnable path she has put herself on…” she shakes her head and you wait for her to continue but she does not. After a few beats of silence you jump when Anathema slaps her hands against the table’s surface, “Do you feel up to going for a walk?” she asks and you calm your stuttering heart. Your skin and body still feel aflush with fever and you can already feel the sweat beginning at your brow.

“I do not,” you tell her, “I feel sick and sore and I…” I don’t want people to stare. To ask questions. To see me, you think to yourself.

“That’s perfectly okay,” Anathema replies with a soft smile, “You can stay inside if  that is what you prefer. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Truly?”

“Of course!”

“Oh…” you breathe out. No obligation to anything, no being forced, no decisions made for you with no say for yourself. You feel yourself begin to tear up and you laugh breathlessly as you use a hand to wipe away the droplets of saltwater that slide down your cheeks. Anathema stays silent besides but you are no fool, you know that she sees your anguish. It’s only once your face is dry again does she speak.

“You haven’t been shown much kindness in your life have you?”

The question takes you off guard as you whip your head down to stare at her. She looks back at you with pity in her eyes and it makes your blood boil. You know she means well, you know she’s just trying to help but there’s just something in the back of your mind that’s screaming at you to rage at her. You feel your expression sour and your top lip pulls up in a sneer.

“That’s none of your business,” you snap as you shoot to your feet.

“My apologies,” you hear her mumble as you take a step away from the table, “I did not mean any offense.” She sounds ashamed, embarrassed, and you can’t tell her that it’s okay because to you, it’s not. But you know that snapping at her was uncalled for.

“I’m sorry,” you say, quiet and tense as you cross your arms over your chest, “I shouldn’t have bit at you like that. That was rude of me. I’m just…” you trail off, the flush of heat pushing like a wave through you. There is so much you cannot say, cannot elude to without having parts of the truth revealed. And you have not come this far just to fall under the weight of your own emotions. They’ve already done enough damage.

“You’re not the one who has to apologize,” she replies. You finally look to her and the terse smile upon her round face as she too rises to her feet. Her gaze feels like needles upon your face, “If you would like to depart to the drawing room, I can bring you something warm to drink?” she says and the thought of falling into a plush pillow has you almost melting into the floor.

“That would be nice.”

“Do you need me to show you the way?” she asks as you begin to turn.

“I know where it is,” you reply and you have no choice but to turn your back on her as you leave the room. You don’t like it, the feeling of her gaze burning upon the back of your head but you have to tread carefully, lest she ask more questions.

/////

The armchair you collapse in is comprised of a floral-patterned fabric and chestnut coloured wood. And it is so soft that you close your eyes and let out a deep sigh as you feel yourself begin to drift. You’re still be so tired. What little energy you had is steadily draining out of you and you struggle to sit up when you hear Anathema approaching.

“Here,” her voice sounds muffled to your ears and you wipe the haze from your eyes. Had you fallen asleep? You look to your left where a small white cup has been placed upon the round-topped table that rests up against the chair on which you can already feel yourself becoming one with, “Coffee. With a little bit of something extra,” she winks at you and you chuckle as you reach over and take the cup with paled and freckled fingers. You take a sip and you feel your face screw up, your lips pursing at the unfamiliar taste. You hear Anathema laugh but you’re not one to do things half-heartedly. You finish the drink in one breath and place the cup back on the table.

“Thank you,” you breath as you settle back into the chair, “Is it okay if I stay seated? Stay down here instead of returning to the room?” you ask. You remember her saying the sheets had to be changed, and you’re fairly certain it’s just the two of you in this house.

“I see no issue with that.” You look to Anathema when the clink of porcelain catches your ear. She has the cup in her hands and is regarding you with a curious eye. You stare back, the sunlight spilling in from the outside lighting up her face in a radiant glow. Freckles dotted all over her face, green eyes full of warmth, and you can’t help the memories that return unbidden.

Memories of her.

She used to be kind when you were younger. Innocent. Your mind pliable. She hadn’t always been so short tempered, so quick to anger, so ruthless. She was your big sister and you had loved her. Part of you still does, in a strange way. Though it’s less love for who she is now and more longing for the person she had been. When they world had been kinder to you both.

Your face feels warm and cheeks wet and you realize you are crying and that you may have been for a while. You cover your face with your hands. You don’t want to break down in front of a stranger but it seems that once again your body cares little for what you actually want. Your thoughts feel full of poisonous nostalgia that threatens to sweep you away into the depths of despair. There’s a murmuring at your side and a staggered hitch to your breathing and when you feel a hand grip your shoulder the touch is like an open flame to your shivering body. Off. Get off. You want to scream but your voice fails you though you manage to jerk away and the hand vanishes.

Bad memories. Painful memories. A hand on your shoulder and a stern word to accompany it. Was that all? Was there more? You feel like you’re missing something, some crucial piece of information that your mind refuses to acknowledge but when you try to think, all you find is darkness. Why do you feel like this? The breath of a whisper tickling your ear. A soft laugh and a gentle smile as a hand clasps itself over where your own have fallen to your lap. You want to pull away but the grip is firm and you watch as a thumb of pale skin and freckles brushes softly over the back of your hand. You watch the gentle motion, the sweeping of the digit and the soothing hum that seems to emanate from your left. You focus on the hand and the feeling of comfort it seems to provide and slowly, so slowly, you feel the thundering of your heart slow, your frantic breathing even out, and your hearing returning to you piece by piece. Like sand in an hourglass.

You breathe deep. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. You pull your hand away and curl your fingers in to touch your palms.

“You okay?” Anathema asks and her voice still sounds fuzzy to your ears. You nod, not looking at her, “What happened?”

“I don’t… I’m not sure.” Your head feels muddled and your body feels too warm.

“Does this sort of thing happen a lot?” More questions. Your skin prickles with a nervous flush of fast-moving heat and your hands tighten into fists.

“No,” you lie, and shake your head. Your words sound false to your own ears and so she must know you’re lying. How couldn’t she? You hazard a quick glance up at her face, but she’s not looking at you. Instead her gaze is focused out the bay window, not that she can see much past the hedge that blocks the drawing room from any prying eyes on the street. Though you can see the rigidness of her shoulders and the tightness to her face and you’ve always been good at reading people so you know she doesn’t believe you. You don’t owe her anything. You don’t. (Don’t you?) She has helped you. She’s been kind. Friendly. Nothing but. It’s you that’s the problem, you know that. You don’t owe her anything and yet… You sigh, “I don’t want to talk about it okay?” you tell her. Don’t want to talk about anything but it’s not always up to you is it?

“Julia told me how she met you in the woods.” You narrow your eyes, you can’t help it, “I’m not going to pretend to understand what you’re going through but I just wanted to tell you that if you ever need to talk, you can do so here. No one here is going to judge you. Well,” she chuckles and looks at you, finally, “I won’t. Julia certainly won’t either. Chen might, though he would never admit so out loud. He’s stern but it comes from a place of caring, deep down. I think.” You raise an eyebrow, “Anyways!” She grins at you, “Will you be okay down here by yourself while I tidy a few things up?”

“I’ll be alright,” you assure her, “I’ll stay here and probably fall asleep as soon as you leave,” you grin.

She laughs, “Well if you do need anything, give me a shout. I won’t be far.” And with that she leaves.

You listen to her footsteps, solid yet with a bounce and once they have almost disappeared you lean forwards to peer back into the house. To make sure she is truly gone from the room, from your view. You see no trace of her and you can no longer hear her footsteps either and as you sink back into the armchair you unclasp the hunting bag at your hip and retrieve the small leather-bound book from within.

You’ve read through this tome may times. You were its keeper. Trusted to keep its contents and secrets hidden. A ledger. A record of dealings with people far and wide. Pages full of blackmail material that can be used both against her and the people whose names are scrawled within.

Written in your hand.

You were the one to stand at her back. The one to observe, to pick out any little detail about those who requested an audience that could in turn be used against them. Your scrupulous eye for detail had doomed many a soul and was the main reason why you feared for your life so. They had seen your face. They had been victims to your deeds and now that you were free you had no one to protect you. A part of you wonders, Why? Why did she allow you to be in the same room as the people whose lives it was your duty to dismantle? But in your heart you know the reason.

You were never meant to leave that house.

You can feel the weariness that tugs at your eyelids and drags them down like heavy raindrops falling from an overcast sky. You squirrel away the book, tucking it safely back into your bag and pushing it to your back so that you are leaning your full weight upon it. This way even in sleep, it should be safe. And you are falling asleep, quite rapidly. Your body and mind are drained, your skin still prickles with fever and short sharp pains run up and down the length of your arms. You’re at the mercy of those you don’t know, but what choice do you have?

Your body relaxes, your eyes close, and you drift off into slumber.

+++++

A voice is calling for you. Pleading. Breaking. You hide behind a figure whose face you cannot see as another reaches out towards you. You’re confused and scared and you clutch at the leg of whoever it is you hide behind. The other reaches for you still and you can’t see them either. Their face, their entire body is wreathed in shadows. The only thing you can grasp from this unfocused scene is a deep feeling of hurt, fear, and grief. Before the play fades away and you are left all alone in the dark.

+++++

You awake slowly to a familiar sound of pages turning in a book and for a short moment you think it’s your treasure but no. You can feel the bulge of it at your back, squashed between your dress and the plush backrest of the armchair. You let out a soft sigh as your eyes open and you have to blink a few times in order to clear the haze from your view. How long have you been asleep for? A while. If the darkness outside and the low-lamp lit room is anything to go by.

“Look who’s awake,” a voice to your right speaks up and you don’t jump. You knew someone was there. You look to Julia who closes the book she had been reading and places it on a small table at her side. She smiles at you, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “You mumble in your sleep,” she points out and you scoot back in the chair, sitting upright and giving her your attention.

“Do I?” you reply to which she hmms and nods, “Anything in particular I happen to say whilst I am unconscious?” you hesitantly add. She shakes her head.

“Nothing distinct. Sounds a bit sad, if anything,” she tilts her head as she watches you and her brow furrows, “How are you feeling?”

How are you feeling?

Still too warm, too on edge. But not as exhausted which is a step in the right direction.

“Better. I’m feeling better.” She smiles and your heart flutters in your chest.

“I’m glad.”

You both fall silent and you listen to the whistle of the wind outside, the creaking of the old house and the sound of movement coming from where you now know the kitchen to be. You lean forwards and look to your left to see light spilling out from the hallway by the stairs.

“Food should be almost ready,” Julia says and you hear a shuffling before she is at your side, “You hungry?”

“Always,” you reply as you look to her and your quick reply has her chuckling before she extends a hand out to you. You take it without hesitation and she helps you to your feet, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder when you sway. You skin prickles under her touch much like it had Anathema’s, though the feeling is a bit… different.

You both stand there facing each other in the lowlight. She’s smiling at you, a little crooked smile that has your stomach flipping and your cheeks heating (though not wholly unpleasantly) and you find yourself hard-pressed to look away. Until you do. Breaking the spell as you clear you throat and take a step back. Her hand slips from your shoulder and you feeling colder for its absence. You feel the need to say something.

“Thank you,” you tell her, “Both of you. For helping me and for feeding me,” you chuckle and the sound is echoed in her voice, “I’m not quite sure how I can repay your kindness however. All I have to my name are my horse and my clothes. And they’re already in tatters.” Julia shakes her head.

“You don’t have to repay us Annie,” she replies with a small laugh and you find a frown comes to your face, “It’s just the right thing to do. To help someone who needs it.”

“Anathema mentioned before…” you mumble. Your gaze moves from her face as you cross your arms over your chest, “Didn’t think she was serious in all honesty.”

“Not used to people just wanting to help?”

“Not without requiring something in return, no,” you admit.

“Sounds like you’ve had a rough time of things.” Your laugh is, once again, a startling one. A short and harsh bark of a sound that has you throwing your head back. She has no idea how right she is. When your laughter subsides you wipe the tears from your eyes and let out a long breath, “Are you alright?” Julia asks with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“As alright as I will be for the time being,” you tell her and she holds her arm out towards the hall with a smile of her face. You take the initiative and start towards the kitchen.

/////

“Will Chen be joining us?” you ask as you all sit down. There’s a stool that’s been dragged from somewhere else in the house and now remains vacant opposite you.

“He will be,” Anathema replies, “He’s just finishing up a few things outside. Do you mind waiting?” she asks. You do. But you have enough social awareness to realize saying as such wouldn’t be appropriate.

“It’s fine.” You hide your hands under the table as you feel your fingers curl. As Julia and Anathema begin to talk between themselves you look out at the table.

The spread before you is meager, but homely. Nothing as grand as you are used to but somehow you know it’ll taste better than anything she ever provided. Sat at this table, in this kitchen with two people either side of you who seem to be helping you without looking for anything in return. It almost feels like a dream.

Maybe it is a dream.

Maybe you never left.

Maybe you’re still there, still in the flames. Burning up while your dying mind conjures up false futures. False hopes. Your eyes are wide as you stare at the worn oak table. Such a similar colour. The same colour. Maybe you’re still staring at her desk, caught in death throes unescapable. You draw in a breath, quick and sharp and you grip your legs beneath the tabletop as you use the pain to ground yourself. Sound which had previously been slinking away from you returns as if on a breeze. You look up as you swallow down bile and you’re relieved that they don’t seem to have noticed. Either that or they are too polite to point it out. Could be either. You hope it’s the former.

The sound of the front door opening brings all conversation to a stop.

“Ah! Here he comes!” The door thuds shut, there’s a shuffling of a sort, and soon enough you hear a set of footsteps heading your way. Heavy and solid, each footfall has its purpose and no step is wasted. A man of efficiency. Or simply a man who knows his way around the place in which he works. Who are you to presume to know about this individual whom you have yet to set eyes upon? Anathema slaps her hands against the rough surface of the table and you watch a small bowl wobble and almost spill its contents over her lap, “Hurry up Chen! We’re all waiting on you!” You hear a gruff grumble but no words and then the doorway is filled by the solid form of this, Wei Chen.

And you can’t help but feel a pang of fear.

Because although the feeling is distant and vague, you swear you’ve seen his face before.

Chapter Text

Chen looks to you as you stare and though the strange fear that his appearing had ignited within you is still there, it ebbs away as he sits in the vacant seat.

“Evening,” he nods to Julia, Anathema and then you. Dark eyes lingering on you again and you fight not to squirm in your seat. You don’t wait any longer before you eating. You’re starving and at least this way you won’t have to answer any questions while your mouth is full. Out the corner of your eye you see Anathema chuckle before your present company tucks in.

You make it maybe 5 minutes before you remember your steed and your curse yourself. Both for forgetting in the first place, and realizing that you will in fact have to speak with the man who keeps looking at you when he thinks you can’t see him. So you swallow what food is in your mouth and lift your head to face him.

“How’s my horse?” you ask and it’s a few seconds before he is able to respond.

“She’s well,” he replies, “Tired, slightly singed on her flank, but otherwise healthy. A fine steed,” he nods, “How did you come across her?” he asks and you reply without hesitation.

“She’s been in my family for years. She used to pull a stagecoach before we took her in some years back and she’s been with us since.” Half-truths were the easiest to pull off when talking on untested and unsure ground. You know the history of her breed, what they were bred for, and how common such a horse is. No chance she can be traced to her true owner.

“And you rode her without a saddle,” he nods as he speaks, “Impressive. You two must have a strong bond.”

“We do,” you reply, “I’ve looked after her ever since I was old enough to reach her reins,” you smile, not at him but at the memory. Of a smaller you, a younger you. Reaching up to grab at swinging leather cords while a nearby voice urges you on. You blink hard and find Chen still staring at you with thinned lips.

“So Julia!” Anathema speaks up, saving you from having to answer any more potentially dangerous questions, “How was Ms. Ortega today?”

“Her usual chipper self,” Julia replies as you shovel dinner into your mouth, “She says she wants to meet you Annie.” You almost choke on your food, barely managing to swallow what’s in your mouth as you turn to glare at Julia.

“You told her about me?” Your words come through harsh and you make no attempt to tone them down. This is exactly what you didn’t want. You whole aim here is to stay as low profile as possible and having word of you spread about goes against everything you’ve been taught.

“Well yeah?” Julia replies and she frowns, confused most likely. I mean, what sort of normal person would object to simply being spoken of in passing conversation? “She asked if anything was new and well,” she gestures at you and you give her no respite from your stony expression, “I’m sorry? I didn’t know it was an issue.”

“It’s not,” you lie through gritted teeth, “I just…” your hands clench around your cutlery and you close your eyes to stay your temper, blowing out a hard breath through your nose, “It’s not.” You reiterate, calmer now as you look at Julia with a fake smile.

“It seems like it is though,” Julia’s frown doesn’t move from her face. Your smile slips and you feel your eye twitch. This isn’t the time or place.

“Julia,” Anathema pokes her in the side, “Just drop it.”

“Fine! Fine,” she holds her arms up in surrender but as she continues to eat her food she still stares at you with an expression flitting between so many emotions that you lose count.

/////

Once your stomach is full you feel much better. Sated and content. Though your body still aches and your mind still twists you can close your eyes without being overcome. You sigh as you lean back in your chair and it’s only when you hear Anathema chuckle do you open your eyes.

“Happy?” she asks with a smirk and you grin back.

“Quite,” you reply.

“I know you just had, by the sounds of it, a rather good nap,” Anathema starts, “But it is getting late, close enough to bed time to call it so.” And despite your nap you do still feel tendrils of exhaustion clinging to your bones.

“I can sleep,” you tell her, “It won’t be a problem.”

“You do have bags under your eyes,” Julia pipes up and you cross your arms as you glare at her.

“Oh nice,” you roll your eyes, “Telling me I look like shit now?” You hold in your smirk as you watch her fluster before you reveal the expression with a quirk of your lips, “I’m joking,” you say, “Well mostly. I know I look like shit. Probably covered in it as well…” you mumble, “Speaking of. Is there a chance I can wash up?” you ask, “And possibly a get some nightclothes, and a change of day clothes?” you look to Julia who immediately gets to her feet.

“I can certainly help with that!” she flashes you a smile before looking to Anathema, “You don’t mind clearing up do you Themmy?” she asks and Anathema snorts.

“Go on. I’m sure Chen will help. Won’t you?” She turns to look for Chen as do you all but he’s already halfway down the hall given no inclination that he has heard the question. Though by the rigidness of his shoulders you’re fairly certain he has and that’s he’s choosing to simply ignore it. Or maybe he’s just always that tense. To your surprise however, Anathema only laughs at the not quite slight, “Ah I didn’t expect anything else.” She sticks her tongue out at Chen’s back before the man himself disappears around the corner. You hear the front door open and shut a moment later.

“Come on Annie,” Julia catches your drifting attention amidst the sound of clinking bowls and cutlery as Anathema begins to clear the table, “Let’s get you sorted.”

/////

You stay silent as Julia leads you back upstairs onto the landing then turns down the hall. Now that you are less focused on filling the pit that is your stomach you take time to look around properly. The walls are lined by frames in which hang many interesting things. Black and white stills of figures you do not know. Clippings from newspapers the contents of which you figure to be cases previously worked on. In one frame you even spy the pinned form of a rather large moth, its wings outstretched in a perfect picture of beauty.

This is a nice place.

“It sure is.” You don’t realize you’ve spoken out loud until Julia voices a reply. Good thing you’re behind her. Doors line either side of the hallway you walk down with a single lone doorway set in the wall straight ahead. Julia stops outside a door just before that, pushes it open, switches the light on inside and holds the door for you to step in. You do as such and she pushes the door shut behind you.

You find yourself back in the room in which you awoke and you realize now that it’s her room. It must be. You’re surprised that with this new knowledge her room isn’t as untidy as her office would have led you to believe. It’s actually rather clean. You sit atop the large, comfortable and now well-made bed as Julia turns her back to you in favour of searching through a standing wardrobe against the far wall on your left.

“Sorry about before,” she says and you can’t help but tense up, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you lie, “I just… it’s hard to explain,” you tell her, and it is. You can’t really say a thing without anything being given away.

“You don’t have to. Your secrets are your own,” her voice is muffled but you detect a hint of pity and you don’t like it one bit. You don’t give her a reply and instead let the previous conversation disappear into the night as you lapse into silence, “Not sure if you’ve noticed,” Julia speaks up just as the silence becomes comforting, “But I don’t have any dresses.”

“That’s fine.” The notion that wearing such clothes as Julia brings you a step closer to looking like her does not escape your notice. But it’s not like you can say anything without sounding insane, or inviting the risk of more questions. ‘Oh sorry. I don’t want to wear pants. It reminds me of my sister.’ You snort a laugh that has Julia stopping and half-turning to look at you with an eyebrow raised.

“You okay there?” she asks.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” You’re not sure if she believes you but she returns her focus to the task at hand.

“Alright then,” she replies and you place your hands on your lap as you watch her mutter to herself while pushing clothes aside. Something about the scene provides you with a sense of happiness and you can’t help but briefly smile. Such a simple thing and yet here you are, “Ah!” The muttering stops and Julia turns to you holding out in one hand a pair of deep green pants and a burnt orange button up, and in the other a white cotton gown. You nod at the gown.

“Looks to be about my size,” and then you turn to the clothes with a smile, “I like them.” You truly do. And not just for the colours.

“I thought you would,” Julia grins and hands you gown before laying the outfit upon the bed, “There’s a small adjoining bathroom just through there.” She points at a door ajar to her left, “I’ve been told that you’re not allowed to fully bathe until you’re healed, but I’m sure you’d be allowed to clean your face, And hair.” Her eyes flit to your orange mess before you hold up a bandaged hand.

“I don’t think I could even get that done.” You frame the words as a joke but the chuckle that leaves you is humourless and you can’t meet Julia’s eyes. There’s not even a beat of silence before she replies a little too eagerly.

“I could help if you’d like?” You don’t want her help. You don’t really want anyone’s help. You want to be able to do things on your own and to be able to prove to her yourself that you’re independent, that you can do this on your own. Your mood begins to sour and you grit your teeth. Part of your brain addled as it is wants her to leave you alone. To not touch you. To stop being so nice. But you have more sense than that. You need to think about what you truly want in the near future and that is to be well without risk of further infections or of falling ill. And for that future to come about quicker, you need help. And you’ve already thanked them. It’s not as if your pride could dip any lower than it already has. That’s the only reason you hesitate. No other.

“I’d appreciate that,” you nod and even though you still do not look to her, the glee seems to almost radiate from her bouncing form as she steps towards the bathroom with you following on her heels.

There’s a small window to your left up high through which silver moonlight shines bathing the decent sized bathroom in an ethereal light. When Julia flips a switch the light overhead comes on and you can see the bathroom proper. Walls covered halfway with shining white tiles while the rest is painted in a pleasant turquoise. There’s a small sink to your left, a toilet further along the same wall and to your right against the opposite wall is a moderately sized bathtub.

“Alright!” Julia speaks up, “Face first. Do you mind taking a seat on the edge of the bath?” she asks.

“Sure,” you reply, and do just that. You fold the nightgown lengthways and drape it over the edge of the tub at your side as you watch Julia grab a small cloth from under the sink. She turns on the tap just long enough to soak the cloth before turning it off and approaching you.

“May I?” she asks and you huff.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have accepted your help in the first place,” you tell her. She grins down at you.

“You have a point. Now, tilt your head back for me.”

You lift your face to ceiling as you close your eyes but you startle when you feel a hand gently grab your chin.

“Sorry,” Julia mumbles and you can feel her breath upon you face as she begins to wipe away the muck you cannot see.

“It’s okay,” you breath out as you swallow down the emotions that threaten to spill forth. You can feel your heart hammering inside your chest and this close you know she must be able to hear it. How could she not?

She’s gentle. Incredibly so. Smooths the cloth across your face with a care that makes you ache for more of her touch and that thought scares you. But you don’t move. You barely breathe, too afraid of breaking the moment but soon it’s broken anyways as she steps away with a cloth barely muddied.

“Done,” she says as you open your eyes to find her smiling at you. You smile back with a kindness has you feeling far too soft. Things seems different here in this space, far more personal. Tender.

“And my hair?” you hardly recognize your voice, quiet and longing and you don’t think you’ve ever sounded like this before

“I have an idea,” she tells you, “Wait here.” And you do. You stay put as she leaves the bathroom with the cloth and soon returns with a chair which she places before the sink, “Have a seat,” she says as she pats the wooden surface and you get to your feet before you plant yourself upon the lowdown it, “Tilt back till your neck touches the sink.” You do. You follow her orders and when you feel resistance you stop, “Perfect.” You feel your hair, trapped as it is between the porcelain and your skull move as Julia gently pulls it up and drapes it into the bowl. Ah.

You hear the sound of running water before the splashing becomes muted as Julia speaks up, “I’ll do my best not to let any water run down your neck but ah, honestly, I’ve never done this before.” Her chuckle is a nervous one and you smirk at her from your position.

“Not exactly the most comforting words,” you reply, “But I’m sure you’ll do a better job than I would have been able to.” You tell her and you see her nod.

“Then lets get to it Annie.”

You like the way your name sounds in her mouth.

The water that cascades through your hair is deliciously warm and as you close your eyes with a  smile on your face you can only guess as to what is being done. You detect a hint of lemongrass and lemon right before Julia begins to massage your scalp and you almost melt into the chair. You’ve haven’t felt a gentle touch like this in so long that it’s hard for you to recall the face of the one who cared for you so. Not her. Too soft for even when you were kids so it must have been your mother and it makes sense as to why it’s difficult to recall who. It’s always been hard for you to remember her. You were so young. You pull yourself out of the memory when you feel your body tense up. This isn’t the time nor the place and you don’t want Julia asking questions.

More water through your hair and you feel so comfortable that you begin drifting off.

“You alright there?” Julia’s voice sounds so far away but you reply none-the-less.

“Mhm…” You’re far too relaxed for words and part of your brain is screaming at you that this is dangerous, that you’re letting your guard down and putting yourself in a state of vulnerability. But your concerns are washed away with the dirt and as Julia’s hands thread through your hair once again you find that your mind has never been so… quiet, “This is nice…” you hear yourself mumble. A deep chuckle from above has you smiling.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Just don’t fall asleep quite yet okay? Otherwise you’ll be up too early tomorrow and we have things to do!”

“We?” you crack an eye open.

“Well if you’re feeling better, I was thinking we could go for a walk through the town. You can get your bearings, become familiar with the people.” You can’t help the look of disgust that twists your features and Julia laughs as she scrubs your hair, “You can’t stay inside this house forever,” she chuckles as she removes her hands and you hear the sounds of running water.

“Oh I could,” you reply as you fight the sigh that wants to leave you.

“Could you now?” comes the amused reply. More water through your locks and you close your eyes again. There’s a few moments of silence in which you are dangerously close to falling asleep before Julia’s voice rouses you back to waking, “You said your horse has been in your family for years,” she mentions, “Mine has as well. My family owns a ranch outside of town which I don’t visit nearly as much as I should. Where do your family live?” The questions is innocent enough to someone who has no idea just how loaded it is for you.

All traces of sleep are now gone and your eyes snap open as you look to Julia who seems too focused on wringing out your hair to look at you proper. Careful. Careful. You’re not sure if any answer you give will be enough to satisfy her curiosity while still leaving you with your damnable secrets. Your hands which had preciously been folded in your lap, now grab at the strap of your hunting bag. Your mouth feels dry and your throat parched and when you first open your mouth to reply all that leaves you is the dry whistle of words unspoken. You try again.

“They’re…” you trail off and now Julia does look at you with her brow furrowed and you hold her gaze as to look away would signify your guilt, “A ways from here,” you settle on an ambiguous answer and hope it’s enough.

“And they don’t mind you travelling through the woods in the state that you were?” You sit up abruptly and cringe at wet hair slapping against your back before Julia hands you a towel. You yank it from her grip and stay silent as you wrap your hair and all your brain can think of is your sister riding through the woods shouting your name with her lackeys close behind. You squeeze your eyes shut and when you open them you stare at Julia with your nostrils flared and your mouth set in a line.

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” you hiss and your hands tighten into fists, sending pain through you and causing the rest of your body to stiffen, “They’re not here and they have no control over what I do. Not-“ you shake your head and look away as you clamp your lips shut. The silence has turned awkward and the room seems far colder than before so you get to your feet and stand against the far wall, your arms crossed and staring at Julia who wrings her hands together as she watches you.

“I’m sorry,” she says and you bite the inside of your cheek, “I would say I don’t mean to pry but…” she lets out a small laugh as she shrugs, “It’s in my nature.”

“As a Detective?” you ask and now she’s wearing that same crooked smile that does things to you, doubly more so when she tilts her head and you watch a few strands of brown waves come loose from the ponytail that swings at her back.

“As someone who wants to get to know you better,” comes her reply as she takes a step towards you though strangely enough you don’t feel cornered in this space. You can’t help but bark a laugh so different from the demeanour you’re trying to cultivate.

“Why would you want to know me better?” You’re no good for knowing and most of what you’ve told her so far have been lies. You don’t plan on telling her the truth at any point and yet you don’t say a thing in the negative when says she wants to know you better. And you’re not too sheltered to be ignorant to the fact that she means it in a way you know is far more than just her being a welcoming host.

“Well,” she smiles as she stops before you and it’s almost as if she can read your mind, “I’m just a good host.”

“Liar,” you call her bluff and she grins at you.

“Would it be so bad to get to know each other?” she asks and your mind is filled with sounds of gunshots and the roaring of flames and you shiver as you push the memory from your mind, “Oh. Are you cold?” Julia steps back and you rub your arms, “We should get your hair dry, then you can change out of those clothes.”

“Yes, that is the plan.” You unwrap your hair and pat it dry as best you can before you drop the towel into the tub and retrieve the gown. You stand back up and turn to face Julia who has taken a step back to lean against the wall with her legs poised one over the other and if you didn’t know any better, you would think she’s posing. You watch as she closes her eyes and yawns, stretching her arms up high over her head and with her sleeves rolled up to the crooks of her elbows your eyes are stuck on the captivating view of her well-toned arms.

“Enjoying the view?” Your gaze snaps to hers and she’s cracked an eye open, a shit-eating grin plastered across her face as she looks at you. You feel your face warm up and you sneer.

“Hardly,” you huff, “Just waiting for you to leave so I can change.”

“Well then,” she laughs and pushes herself off from the wall, “I’ll leave you to it. Call if you need anything.” You watch as she turns away, throws you a wink over her shoulder, and finally leaves. You shake your head with a smile she cannot see as you close the door.

/////

“I put my clothes in the bathtub,” is the first thing you say to Julia when you open the door to the bathroom to find her sitting on the bed. She gets to her feet and looks you up and down.

“You could look good in anything I reckon,” she gives you that smile and you roll your eyes.

“Oh haha,” you deadpan as cross your arms, the strap of your bag held tightly in one hand, “Got anymore lines you want to try?” you glare at her and she holds up her arms as she laughs.

“I do, but I think you’d hit me if I said anything.”

“Wise choice,” you smirk and you open your mouth to speak again but Julia beats you to it.

“I feel I must apologize for the asking of so many questions,” she starts, “I guess I’ve just been a tad eager to get to know more about you and forgot my manners,” you watch as she rubs the back of her head with a sheepish grin.

“Do that a lot do you?” you raise an eyebrow.

“According to my Mama, yes.” She chuckles and you sigh.

“I’m not opposed to getting to know you better,” you begrudgingly admit, “And a walk tomorrow could be…nice,” you tell her, “As long as it’s a short one though. I don’t want to push myself too far.” Lie.

“A short one,” Julia nods and you can tell she’s fighting to show her excitement. With the way her eyes shine and how her hands grab the covers beneath her, “I can do that.” You exist in a quiet silence with only the sound of crickets chirping onto the night to fill the air.

“So…” you finally speak, “Where will I be sleeping?”

“Here,” Julia pats the bed and you narrow your eyes.

“And where will you be sleeping?” you ask.

“There’s a reasonably comfortable couch in my office,” she replies and you don’t remember seeing a couch, but then again you hardly remember the night at all. You feel a pang of guilt however at the taking over of her own room but you really don’t want to have to sleep on a couch.

“If you’re sure?” you say and she grins.

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have made the offer in the first place.” You chuckle as you unfold your arms and Julia gets to her feet, “I’ll leave you be. Let you get some more rest.” She rests a hand on your shoulder and you find yourself stepping closer to her. Her touch glides down your arm to grab your free hand and your arm tingles in her wake. You are stuck standing absolutely still and you watch her movements unblinking and wide-eyed as she lifts your hand to her mouth, and places a gentle kiss upon your fingertips before letting go, “Sleep well,” she speaks in a tone that is low and a touch rough before she gives you the softest smile you’ve seen yet, turns around, and leaves.

As she shuts the door behind her you finally blink. You throw your bag onto the foot of the bed as you turn your hand around to stare at where her lips had touched your flesh. You flex your fingers but there’s no pain, only a giddiness that has a bubble of laughter rising up your throat and a giggle leaving your lips before you slap your hands over your mouth. You’ve never made that sound before. What in the world is this woman doing to you? You pinch the bridge of your nose as you sigh but you can’t keep the smile from your face or the lightness from your heart. There’s a bounce to your step as you turn off the bathroom light and the main bedroom light off. Now the only way for you to see is by the light of the moon and with two large windows allowing the silver shine in, you find the bed with no trouble.

You fall upon it and crawl up to the head, throwing the blankets back before shimmying your way beneath and pulling the covers up to your chin. You try and focus on what tomorrow might bring, on preparing your mind for the dangers you may face but all you can think about are how soft Julia’s lips were and you’re glad no one can see you blush in the dark.

Sleep takes you swiftly. And for the first night in a very long time you dream of nothing.

+++++

You wake to the sound of birds and the muffled noise of voices somewhere in the house. You rub the sleep from your eyes as you get out of bed and get dressed as quickly as you can. You grab your boots from where you had left them in the bathroom, grab your bag from where it still sits at the end of the bed and sling it over your head before leaving the room and rushing downstairs.

You join Anathema and Julia in the kitchen, sitting down just as food is placed on the table.

“Morning!” Anathema smiles at you as she takes a seat, “How did you sleep?” she asks as Julia places a porcelain pitcher in the middle of the table before taking the other seat.

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept so soundly,” you admit as you begin to eat, “It is a very comfortable bed.”

“You look amazing,” Julia speaks and when you look to her she’s looking you up and down before she gives you that smile that has your heart fluttering, “It all fits okay?” she asks to which you nod.

“Pretty much. Everything’s a little loose-“ You’re lankier than she is, “-but it’s all the right length and nothing is too tight.”

“Fantastic,” the last word she says before she too digs in to her breakfast. You all eat in silence and once done Julia speak up, “Are you still up for that walk today Annie?” she asks.

“I am if you are,” you reply and she gets to her feet.

“Let’s clear away breakfast and then get to it!”

/////

As you leave the kitchen with Julia you step into the foyer and she pauses.

“Ah. I need to duck into my office to grab a few things. Mind tagging along?”

“I have literally nothing else to do.” Not that you’d rather be anywhere else.

She smiles at you, “Fantastic.”

/////

“I see it’s still as messy as I remember it to be,” you tut as you step into the room and shut the door behind you. You look around and spot a small couch tucked away in a corner by the window.

“Yes well it may be messy to you,” Julia speaks as you watch her head to the desk, “But I know where everything is.” You watch as she shuffles some papers around before bending down and opening up some drawers, “Mostly,” you hear her muffled voice from where she crouches and you snicker before your attention is drawn away to strange sight above the fireplace. Something you don’t remember seeing on the night you found this place but in the state you were in, you’re not surprised. You leave the sound of Julia muttering and cursing at your back as you approach the string-connected stills to have a look.

Black and white pictures of people you don’t know have been nailed to the wall, connected together in some way by a trail of red twine. There are three photos in all currently on the wall itself but there are four spots that remain empty. Four spots that look like up until recently also held stills. You frown as you trace one trail with a single finger, feeling the line bow behind your touch as you draw towards the middle of the images.

The largest spot that is devoid of an image.

“It looks like you’re missing a few pieces,” you speak up as you turn your head slightly to the side.

“What?” Julia replies and you hear her slam a draw shut before she is soon standing next to you.

“This,” you mention as you wave an arm about the space before you, “There’s someone missing from here.” You tap the empty spot in the middle, “Here,” you trail upwards where another spot remains vacant, “And here.” You trail beneath the vacant middle where two trails of red branch off into nothing.

“There’re not missing. There’s just a few things I need to… reevaluate.” You know a lie when you hear one but something in her tone leaves you not wanting to point out as such. A single faded picture sits off to the right, floating amongst a sea old wallpaper it shows the image of a man. Stubble on his face with waves of dark brown to his shoulders. His expression is weary but his eyes seem kind and he’s looking at the camera with a wry smile upon his face. There’s something about him… Whatever thought floats upon your mind evades your grasp and remains frustratingly just out of reach. Three strings connect this man’s image to the vacant middle, the missing still from the top and one from the very bottom. You tilt your head as you squint at the image.

“Who’s that?” you ask as you tap a finger beneath the still. You receive no reply from the woman at your side and you take a step away to look at her to find that her gaze is already on you, piercing in its intensity. And you do not like it. Walls up. Guard up. It’s the same funny look she gave you when you asked her before about the man who was murdered. Her mentor. Her mentor. You look back to image with some difficulty, “Is that him?” you ask, “The one whose position you took. The one you claim was murdered?”

“Yeah that’s him.” She’s still looking at you and you take another step away. Your heart is pounding and you’re not entirely sure why. When she finally drags her gaze away from you and turns back to the web you relax a touch but not completely, “I’m doing everything I can to find his killer, but they remain ever the elusive figure.” You too look back to the stills.

“Well,” you start, “It might help if you return the pictures you took away.” An attempt to lighten the mood. It works. Julia snorts a laugh and when she looks to you again there’s nothing but kindness in her warm brown eyes.

“You have a point Annie! Maybe I will. But that’s something for another day. Let’s go for that walk.” As you both head from the room you realize that Julia is empty-handed.

“Didn’t you come in here to grab something?” you question as she opens the door.

“Ah it’s all good,” she replies as she shuts it behind you both, “Figured something else out and I don’t really need it anyways.” Curious, but you shrug. It’s none of your business.

“Just remember,” you speak up as you cross the landing and descend the staircase, “A short walk. I still don’t quite feel myself, and I would hate to faint out in the street.” You frame it as a joke, a little chuckle to prove it so, yet you can think of nothing more embarrassing, or more terrifying. At the mercy of not only people you do not know but out in the open where everything can be seen.

“I remember,” Julia pipes up. You follow behind and watch hair braid bounce against her back with each step she takes. Seems a common hairstyle here. Maybe if you ask nicely… Later perhaps.

“What are the people like?” you find yourself asking as you both come to a stop before the front door. What are people like? Is what you want to ask, but you don’t want to answer the questions you are sure would follow. You remember the whispers and stares that followed you as you entered upon your horse. You do not like being observed and you want to be prepared.

“They keep to themselves mostly. They’re good folk. Hard-working folk. At least those here are,” Julia says. You spy boots neatly placed by the door much cleaner than your own. You frown down at your own mud-covered footwear as Julia bends down and pulls a pair on before grabbing a coat from a rack by the door and folding it over an arm, “Can’t say the same for the richer folk further into the town.” Maybe that’s where you had found yourself yesterday.

“They stared at me,” you confide, “Whispered behind my back when I got here.” You shiver, “It was unnerving.” She stares at you for a few seconds with a look you cannot place before she offers you an arm.

“Shall we?” she asks as she looks at you with a grin.

There’s a flash of… something that crosses before your vision, a snag in the back of your mind that has you seeing double and you stumble where you stand. There’s a hand at your elbow and you want to pull away but your body doesn’t respond. That damn fever. It has to be. Still having its claws in you despite your feeling better. What other affliction could affect you so? There’s whispers – no- a voice at your side. You think? It’s hard to think clearly. Anathema? No. Julia. Anathema is… in the kitchen still. Isn’t she? You open your mouth to speak but all that leaves you is a jumble of words with no coherent sentence in sight. And so you squeeze your eyes shut against the dizziness of your mind as your hand finds the surface of the door you know is before you. Something to keep you steady along with the arm that you can now feel is looped through yours. You take a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Just like she told you to do whenever your anger would get a better of you. This isn’t your anger now but you can think of nothing else to do.

Slowly your senses return and there’s a nervous humming to your left that prickles against your skin. When your free arm falls back to your side, the humming stops.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go?” Julia speaks, her voice is soft as she keeps a hold of you.

“N-no. No,” you clear you throat and pull your arm from hers, “I’m fine now. I’m okay.” You nod at the door, “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

As you both step into the day you take a deep breath of fresh air.

“I was thinking we could go visit my Mama?” Julia starts, “She loves meeting new people and I think she’d adore you.”

“I don’t… visiting new people right now just feels…” you’re not quite sure what to say as you both start walking down the flattened path, “I don’t want to have to answer questions,” you end up admitting. You see Julia frown.

“Well unlike myself, Mama has some sense of restraint when it comes to that,” she chuckles, “Plus, she always makes the best meals.”

“We just ate,” you point out as your feet meet cobblestone.

“And you’re going to tell me you’ll pass on the opportunity of free food?” You both cross the street and Julia raises an eyebrow at you. You open your mouth to speak, only to shake your head, “I didn’t think so,” comes the jovial reply as you peer into a shopfront to see groups of people sitting at small round tables, chatting and drinking from small off-white mugs, “She’s not far and if you don’t think you’ll be able to make it, then we’ll turn around and come right back.”

/////

True to her word you’re not walking for long. Heading a short distance from the house Julia leads you across the street and you find yourself following her towards a rather squat looking abode. It’s door is wide open and you can taste the mouthwatering aromas that waft into the mid-morning air. As you both approach the door you feel a hesitation come over you and you plant your feet firmly on the stone path. Julia comes to an immediate stop at your side and you stare into the homely interior as you hear a voice from within humming a song the melody of which is unfamiliar to you. Your companion is quiet at your side and you can feel the burn of her eyes on the side of your face.

“Are you okay?” she asks and whatever had you at a pause seems to vanish in an instant.

“I’m okay,” you reply as you smile at her, “Truly. Let’s go in.” Your legs are a tad unsteady beneath you as you both head in.

+++++

“Mama it’s me!” Julia shouts out as she guides you deeper into the home, “And I’ve brought someone with me!” the narrow hall you had been walking through ends and opens up into a large living space. You see a table at your front, checkered cloth covering its surface and when you turn your head to the left you see the back of a woman standing over a stove. She turns as soon as Julia steps towards her and she opens out her arms with a wide smile as the younger woman falls into her embrace. She wraps your friend up tight and gives her a squeeze before releasing her, grabbing her face and planting a kiss on upon her forehead.

“Mi hija,” she smiles, “You look well.”

“Mama I was only here yesterday,” Julia rubs the back her neck, “And don’t embarrass me in front of me friend!” Friend. When Julia steps aside to reveal your form you find your hand going to the straps of your bag, grip tightening as the older woman takes a step towards you.

“Ah,” she says, “You must be the one my Julia spoke of. The woman who broke into her office?” she raises an eyebrow and you shoot Julia a sharp look to which she sheepishly grins in reply, “My name is Elena. Julia’s told me a little about your plight.” Your eye twitches but the older woman only regards you with concern, “How are you feeling?” she asks and the question catches you so off guard that you blink owlishly and it takes you a few beats to find your words.

“I’m feeling much better than I did yesterday thanks to Julia and Anathema,” you reply, “They’ve been perfect hosts.”

“I taught my daughter well,” her smile is a fond one as she looks towards Julia before she begins to usher you over to the table, “Sit, make yourself at home. Julia get the girl something to drink.”

“Yes Mama,” Julia chuckles and you allow yourself to be herded towards a chair which is pulled out for you by the older woman. She smiles at you as you take a seat and you scoot our chair forwards before she returns to the stovetop. You watch Julia stretch up to open a cupboard and the easy chatter between her and her mother has your heart aching. Such a simple scene and yet one you never got to experience and you feel as if an emptiness you have only just become aware of has grown larger inside your chest. You don’t even complain when no drink finds its way too you.

Sunlight filters in through windows dotted about the space and Julia’s hair takes on a golden hue as you watch her head tip back with a laugh you find yourself smiling to. You feel soft and open and maybe you could ask…

“Julia?” you speak up and the bronze-skinned woman spins to face you with a smile, “Could you braid my hair please?” you find yourself asking, “I would do it myself but,” you lift up your hands with a shrug. You see her smile waver as her eyes go to your bandages but that doesn’t stop her from walking over and dragging a seat next to yours.

“Turn sideways for me?” she asks and you do, sitting up straight and adjusting your pack as it squashes between your thigh and the back of the chair. You hear a ruffle of fabric before the feeling of fingers threading themselves through your hair has you closing your eyes and tipping your head forwards. She so gentle that you almost cry. Combing through your curls with patience and care, apologizing whenever she hits a knot that has you wincing. You remain silent as her hands do the all the work and with the humming that fills the kitchen you feel as if you could live in this moment forever. It’s over far too soon and when you feel the weight of your braid rest against your back you open your bleary eyes and reach behind you, “How did I do?” Julia asks as the sound of clinking plates and muffled footsteps has you turning.

“Well,” you smile as Elena places two plates upon the table before returning to the kitchen counter for a third. You run your fingers over the interwoven locks of orange hair, “Really well. Thank you,” you nod. Julia’s eyes sparkle as she looks at you.

“It was my pleasure,” she replies before winking then turning her chair to face the table and picking up her knife and fork. You glance at Elena as she sits down to see her looking at her daughter with a smile and a shake of her head before she notices you watching, and the smallest flicker of a smirk has your eyes shooting to your own plate.

It’s a touch of home that you will never get used to the way you all eat in companionable silence with none of the underlying tension that had become so commonplace around your sister. A few times you catch Julia sneaking glances at you out the corner of her eye and when her knee brushes unexpectedly against your own you can’t help your initial reaction of flinching. Your hands clench tighter around your cutlery and you avoid her eye as you continue eating until her leg is no longer touching your own.

As the plates are cleared away you place a hand upon the table as you get to your feet, “Thank you for the meal Elena,” you nod as Julia rises and stands at your side.

“Don’t mention it cariño,” she smiles in return and the emptiness within you fluctuates, unable to make up its mind whether to shrink under the weight of the joy you are basking in, or grow in time with your thoughts of longing. When she steps forwards and gently squeezes a shoulder you are unable to keep the smile on your face, lips wavering as you turn your head away, “You be well now, you hear me?” she speaks in a soft voice and you nod as your gaze doesn’t waver from the view of a lush green backyard as her hands disappear and she steps back. You hear Julia mumble a quiet thanks and when she taps you lightly on the shoulder you look to her.

“Let’s head home,” she tells you and you nod, throw Elena a quick smile from where she watches you with dark eyes, and head back through the house.

As you step outside to a cool breeze you let your eyes close as you lift your face to the sky. You breathe in deep before letting out one long continuous breath, facing the world and stepping ahead with Julia at your side.

“Are you okay?” she asks as your feet hit the street.

“Why do you ask?” a non-answer.

“Back there you just seemed… sad,” she replies and your stomach dips.

“I’ve never had such a home as filled with love as yours,” you admit and then you dare to venture a step further, “My… mother died when I was young. Young enough it’s hard for me to recall her face and after her death it was my sister that raised me.”

“Just the one sister?” Julia asks and for a reason you can’t fathom you hesitate. A featherlight touch to the back of your hand and you think you’re imagining it before you look touch to see Julia’s fingers brushing against your own, “Just the one. Yes,” you tell her, “She was protective and far from nurturing though she tried her best.” Did she?, “But interactions such as those between you and your mother are something I… something I wish I had growing up.” There’s a silence that hangs between you as you walk through the street and Julia is the one to eventually break it.

“I’m sorry,” you feel one of her fingers curl around your own.

“It’s not your fault,” you snort a laugh as you do your best to ignore the spread of warmth that her touch inspires, “It’s just life.”

“Not life as it should be.”

“At the time I had nothing to compare it to,” you shrug, “Now I do.” And you leave it at that.

/////

You slip off your shoes as you step inside the foyer. You place them to the side as Julia enters at your back and shuts the door before hanging her coat on the hook nailed to the wall.

“Now. I have some work that needs doing but I would love some company to help pass the boredom,” she looks up to you as she unlaces her own boots.

“I would be happy to keep you company,” you reply and she smiles, finally kicking off her shoes with a sigh of relief.

“Come on then,” she beckons as she heads up the stairs.

/////

“So what are we working on today Detective?” you ask as you shut the door to her office. You watch her step behind her desk and sit down in the old leather chair.

“We?” you watch her arch an eyebrow as she looks up at you with a barely contained smile.

“I’ll have you know I have a very keen eye. I could help you pick up clues that you definitely would have missed.”

“Oh you’re that confident in your abilities are you?” she laughs.

“I am,” you smirk. You are.

“Fine you’ve convinced me.”

“That didn’t take much.”

“Look Annie,” her eyes move from yours down to the desk as you watch her produce a key from a nook you can’t see, “At this point, I’ll take as much help as I can get.” She unlocks a top drawer on her right and struggles to pull it open before a muffled thud and jolt back signifies success. A hand disappears and when she places a neat stack of folded paper on her desk you tilt your head.

“What are those to be locked up like that?” you ask with your curiosity growing as you take a step towards her.

“Letters,” Julia says and she’s staring at you so you stop in your tracks, “That relate to my current case.” Her eyes slip past to where you know the stills to be, “My mentor was in correspondence with someone I have yet to uncover. Someone close to the one who murdered him.”

“How do you figure that out?” you ask as you take a few more steps forwards until your legs hit the desk.

“These letters mention something about blackmail,” you watch Julia clasp her hands together and her brows furrow as she rests her chin upon her interlocked fingers, “Against the sister of the one he was writing to.” She looks up at you, “And I think this whole situation is what got him killed.”

“People have killed for less…” you mumble under your breath as you feel your heart jump in your chest. You stare down at the stack of letters. There’s a lot of them, “Are these all belonging to the person he was in contact with?” you ask.

“All except this one.” You watch her take the top letter off and hand it to you, “This was the letter he never got to send.” You take it gently from her slightly shaking hand and unfold it.

As soon as you read the first line, you know you’ve made a mistake.

Dear A.

Your fingers clench so hard that your blunt nails tear through paper and a spike of icy cold pain shoots through you.

“Annie?” You blink and turn your head far too slowly to stare at Julia, “You alright?” You nod, stiff and not quite right before you take a few trembling steps towards the highbacked chair and fall heavily into it. Your heart is pounding, your head is buzzing and your nerves are alight with the need to run but where would you go? It doesn’t matter. Right now any place would be safer than here.

You’re sitting in the fucking lion’s den.

~~~~~

Memories come back to you like flashes of lightning making themselves known within the rage of a storm.

You remember now.

You’ve seen his face before.

It had been years ago when you were so young you only reached your sister’s hip a man had come to the house.

You don’t remember what was spoken, words lost to time and madness but you remember the tones used. You remember the deep rumble of his voice and the smooth honeyed words that left your sisters lips in response.

What had happened? You try and recall but your thoughts are clouded in shadow. A stray thought passes through your mind that the darkness twists and turns and lunges for you like a hand reaching out with a pleading cry and you feel an absence not attributed to your lack of memories. Did someone leave?

You remember the conversation coming to a tense halt, your sister striding away and ruffling your hair as she left the door wide open and you stood there in full view of the tall man who peered down at you with dark eyes and a surprisingly kind smile.

“Hey kiddo,” he had spoken as he had crouched down to your height, “How are you doing?” You don’t remember your reply but his expression had tightened as he tried not to let what you now realize was guilt and grief from showing on his face, “I wish I could do more for you, I really do,” he had said and you remember him handing you a card from within his coat pocket, “Keep this safe okay?” he had smiled as your small fingers had gripped the offering, “It’ll be our little secret.” You remember grinning and stashing your prize in a pocket. You always did love secrets. Your sister had returned shortly after and he had stood back up quick enough that you had stumbled backwards. She had thrown something at him, a bag that shimmers when you try to picture it and he had held it to his chest before she stepped between you both, and slammed the door in his face.

/////

You had forgotten about that card.

Years, almost a decade went by before you remember seeing it next.

You were in your private bathroom. Light had reflected off the shiny white tiles as the midday sun had shone in through the open window. The sound of birdsong had filled the room but you were almost deaf to the sweat tunes. You were at the sink, tap turned on, water scalding hot and steaming and you had been picking and scrubbing the blood from beneath your nails. You were humming to yourself and when you had looked up at your own reflection you had paused, the tune you barely remember dying on your tongue.

There was a splatter of blood staining you cheek and the longer you stared into the pits of green that were your eyes the more a sense of unnerving wrongness grew within you. It was not a new feeling. For some time you had started to doubt the methods your sister used but before you never really had reason to question. Though you had noticed her temper had been getting worse. Her violence more horrifying. Her emotions more erratic. She would claim she loved you, that she wanted what was best for you and that she was keeping you here for your own good. But what you had once valued and seen as safety and protection had taken on a darker note.

“The world outside is dangerous Annalise,” she would say as she plaited your hair. You would sit still and quiet as she tugged at your strands, “There are so many people who wish you harm and I only want to keep you safe.” You had believed her. You had seen the way guests would whisper and stare as they entered the house, had seen how they would turn their heads sharply away when you would snap your gaze towards them. Pretending they hadn’t said a word but you knew. You remember staying silent even when the pulling of your hair had made you wince, “You know I love you, don’t you?” she had hummed and you had nodded.

“Yes Evangeline,” you replied each time, your voice even and level. She had hummed in content at your reply before falling silent until your braid was done. Then she had simply stood up, and walked away without another word.

You had had enough. Enough of the blood. Enough of the violence enough of the slaughter and the waking up crying from things you couldn’t see. Enough of feeling an emptiness you couldn’t understand.

You wanted to be free.

You wanted out.

But how...

Then you had remembered something buried deep within your fractured mind. A bolt of clarity striking you dead on. Someone had left before… Yes… Yes. Someone had left. But who? Your hands had gripped the basin as you stared unblinking into your own eyes and your vision had begun to warp, your reflection changing and twisting showing only sad eyes of green and curled orange hair and you just couldn’t remember who had gone. You felt as if the air had been stolen from your lungs and your breathing had become stuttered and wet and you were crying but you didn’t know why. You couldn’t remember who was missing and it scared you. All you could recall was someone had indeed gone and left. And that a void had been created inside your heart at their absence along with gaps in your memory and then he had showed up. The kind man with a secret card.

The card.

You had left the bathroom with the tap still running and you had almost tripped over your dress as you bolted into your room. You had pulled out drawers and snatched out their contents, thrown your bed covers to the ground and chucked aside boxes and trinkets and you had almost given up hope when you had found it. Tucked away at the back of your sock drawer, a little crumpled and worse for wear but still legible.

Johnathan Hood. Detective. The man from the past.

The man on the wall.

The man you had sent letter after letter to detailing and discussing times and places, names and faces, the misdeeds and crimes committed by your kin.

The man who was to help you escape. And who was murdered for it.

~~~~~

You feel sick.

You shoot up from the chair and the letter falls from your grasp. You’re unsteady on your feet as your vision sways and you’re dimly aware of Julia standing out from behind the desk as she makes her way to your side. Words spoken and you can’t hear and it’s so incredibly warm in here you can’t- A loose arm around your waist and you’re being ushered towards the far end of the room away from the door and towards the window which is opened with haste. The chilled breeze helps rouse you and you blink rapidly as everything slowly comes back into focus. You realize you’re still being supported by a strong arm that doesn’t move even when your feet find purchase on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Julia’s voice is low and worried and you turn your head to the right to see her face so close to yours. You open your mouth to speak but only air passes through your lips and you surprise even yourself when you shake your head. You see her lips thin out and you extract yourself from her embrace as you place your hands on the window sill, “What’s wrong?” she asks, hovering just beyond your field of view and you close your eye as you drop your head, “You can tell me.”

“I can't,” you whisper.

“Why not?”

“I don’t…” you trail off. I don’t know you, you want to say. But in a strange way you do because he had mentioned her countless times. He had told you about her tenacity, her insatiable curiosity, and her willingness to get to the bottom of things no matter the cost. But what if the cost was too high? High enough for him not to mention to her his plans? Would he have had he lived? These are questions you will never get the answer to because he’s dead. He’d dead because of you. All you wanted was help and now a good man lays buried six feet under because you dared to think you could have a better life.

Your breaths rattle in your chest and you grip the ledge hard enough to hurt but you need the pain. You need something, anything, to help distract you from the thoughts that wish to render you immobile, weighed down by your guilt.

“Here…” the voice at your back speaks and you feel a hand upon your shoulder, “You should sit down.” You nod mutely and push off the ledge and you are guided to the high-backed chair and when you take a seat you tip your head back into the plush, “Annie.” Not your name, “Please tell me what’s wrong with you. We just want to help.” You close your eyes and there’s a truth bubbling in your stomach. Not the truth you think she may be after and it’s not a truth you even want to voice yourself but it’s a concern you’ve had for a number of years. Another reason as to why she kept you locked away.

“I’m sick,” you tell her and you risk a glance in her direction to see that she’s leaning back against her desk with her arms braced behind her and her eyes dark as she stares at you, “And not because of infection or exposure-” Your mouth is dry and you lick your lips as you tap the side of your head, “Something up here isn’t quite right,” you try a laugh but it dies as soon as it leaves your mouth and you frown, “I have gaps in my memory that span years back, there’s… things I hear and see that I can’t quite explain-“ you sit up straight and your frown deepens, “There is a loss somewhere so far back I can’t remember but I feel the absence of-of someone-“ you tap at your chest, fingers splayed and hands spasming, “-rotting away at my heart and mind and I don’t understand!” You feel frantic with your eyes wide and heart racing and you can’t stop the words spilling from your mouth, “Sometimes my thoughts don’t seem like my own and at other times I feel fine.” You look to Julia as if she would have any answers for you and as you keep on rambling all you’re doing is digging yourself a deeper hole, “I think my mother may have been afflicted with something similar.” If what your sister had told you was to be taken as truth, “I think it…” you trail off as an image flashes across your mind.

A once warm hand turned cold. Freckles hidden beneath blood.

You clamp your mouth shut and look away. None of this is helping. Being here is no longer safe. You are no longer safe. You grip the strap of your bag and there’s red seeping through your bandages and she’s no longer staring at you but at the letter by your foot. You had almost forgotten about it. From where you sit you spy handwriting hastily scrawled and you’re glad you cannot read the words.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Julia’s voice makes you jump and you wonder how long the silence has stretched out for.

“I’m not sure,” you reply softly and it’s the truth. There’s so many things you can’t talk about but you know if you keep on going like this sooner or later you won’t have a choice. You know that somehow things will come out, especially if you stay here and maybe that’s the problem, “I think…” you take a breath, “I think I need…” you look to Julia who’s face is a picture of concern, who’s eyes shine with worry and who’s fingers twitch when you shift in your seat. You sigh, “I think I just need some more rest,” is what you end up saying and she nods.

“That’s probably wise. You’re looking mighty pale.” You find a chuckle, “Well, paler,” she smirks as she pushes herself to standing and walks to your side. A hand is offered and you take it, allowing Julia to pull you to your feet and you feel the letter beneath your foot bend between the fibers of the rug. You stare down at the parchment with your ears ringing before you bend and pick it up.

Dear A.

I hope this letter finds you well as I-

“Can I take this letter and the stack of others to the room please? I wish to still help as much as I can,” you say and maybe being in a place of comfort alone and unbothered will stop any further episodes. As least now you know what to expect when you read the words written upon paper. She hesitates and you can take a guess as to why. The only solid bits of proof she has kept under lock and key and you want to whisk them away, “I promise that I will do my best to not cause damage to the letters,” you tell Julia and you watch her lips thin out and her brows furrow until she lets out a short sharp breath and nods.

“Of course,” she smiles, the expression wavering at the edges, and turns to collect the letters from the desk. Bundled in one hand as they are she manages not to drop any as she sweeps her arm towards the door, “After you.” And you start from the room.

/////

You sit upon the covers with pillows at your back as you rest against the headboard. The letters are by your side and though you’re still gripping his reply you have yet to read it. Julia had let you be a short time ago though you knew she was still in the house. Talking to Anathema at a guess as you can hear the murmuring of voices somewhere below you. You did mean to see your horse and now it seems as if that plan has been thoroughly dashed but perhaps after dinner when you are hopefully feeling slightly more put together, you can ask. But that’s later. You have to think about what you’re doing right now.

Which is reading the letter. You have to. You owe him that much and more. So you take a deep breath, unfold the paper, and begin.

~~~~~

Dear A.

I hope this letter finds you well as I fear I do not have much time.

It’s been 2 weeks since our last correspondence and I have yet to hear back from you. I hope it is because my last letter was simply lost or misplaced and not discovered by your sister. Though I am starting to think that may be what has occurred.

I believe I am being trailed. And the fact that they are not overly sneaky about their stalking is cause for concern. They want me to know I am being watched but if they wish to stop me from helping you then they’ll have to try harder than that.

I write this to you now to let you know I am close to securing your escape. In a few days’ time we will meet at the agreed location and from then on you will be free.

If something were to happen to me contact Julia. I have yet to disclose to her of our dealings but rest assured once all is explained she will do her best to help you, just as I have.

You will not be abandoned. I assure you. Just hold on a little longer.

Your friend, John.

~~~~~

He trusted you.

He trusted you and you betrayed him. Worse yet this letter was never sent which means he must have been killed shortly after penning this message as Julia was never told. She had to find out herself through a one-sided conversation and the single letter of a dead man. Though had what he wrote been the truth? If you admit to her who you are and show her the book in your possession would she indeed help?

Your vision swims and tiny blots appear on the letter, staining the paper a darker shade of cream where they land. You place the missive aside as you wipe tears of frustration from your eyes. You had been so close to being free. So so close and yet it just had to all go so wrong. You are free now, yes but at the cost of a life and with no one to help you. Well. That’s not exactly true. Julia has expressed a desire to help but that is without her knowing the full picture and who’s to say she would continue to be as courteous if you were to reveal to her the truth? Another problem is is that if you do admit to those living here who you are then you will have to admit that you were the one who doomed John. That his blood is on your hands like so many others. You’re shaking and when you bring your arms before you there’s red staining your fingers.

You close your eyes against the thundering of your heart and tip your head back as your arms thud to the covers. You’re so tired of this. You left to avoid the secrets and to find help and all you have done is create more mystery and lie about who you are to the only few who could assist you in your endeavor. You should tell them. But what if she hates you for your part even though you had no choice? You don’t think you could survive that rejection.

You need time to think about your next step and your time is precious. You’ve been on high alert for so long it’s hard for you to relax enough to picture anything of the future.

You stand from the bed. You need a moment to clear your mind before the events of today become too overwhelming. Right now is the perfect time to check up on Ophelia.

/////

You’re not sure where Julia or Anathema are but as you descend the staircase the house is silent. You step quietly and slip on your boots with practiced ease before opening the door and stepping out into the late afternoon sun.

You shiver as you wrap your arms around yourself and you seem to recall Anathema mentioning the shelter was by the side of the building, and so going on a 50/50 chance you turn left and stride onwards. You look out past the small picket fence onto the street and though there’s not many people about a few do spare you glances filled with curiosity before you find yourself outside the shelter. It’s a bigger building than you thought it would be though far smaller than the one her house used to have. You idly wonder if there’s any of it left before you step inside.

You spy Ophelia immediately in the end stall, neck bent and head out of sight though as soon as you enter you watch as her head shoots up and her ears flicker about.

“Hey girl,” you smile, placing a hand on her soft nose as she nickers and shakes her head, “Sorry for not coming sooner, but at least you’re in good hands.” You speak softly as you stroke her face and she’s so warm beneath your palms that the chill within you evaporates, “I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.” You would have been caught. That’s for certain.

“I see you’re up and walking.”

The voice at your back has you heart leaping into your throat and has you jumping away from your steed as you spin to face Chen who stands by the entrance, his face annoyingly impassive. You place a hand over you heart and you can feel it’s frantic beating as you make to steady your breathing.

“Don’t sneak up on my like that!” you spit as an anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach.

“It was not my intention to startle you.” It does not escape your notice that he offers no apology, “How are you fairing?” he asks and you lean against the stall half-door.

“Better,” you reply.

“Well enough to walk.” You narrow your eyes.

“Just about,” you reply. Is he angling at something here?

“Well enough to help then,” he speaks as he crosses his arms over his chest, “No one gets a free ride here so you’ll have to pitch in like we all do.” Your eye twitches.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help,” you tell him with a slight sneer you can’t hide, “But if you haven’t noticed I have severe burns to most of my hands and arms so that kind of makes helping out difficult.”

“It doesn’t have to be physical work,” he mentions out and you hate that he has a point, “Because I’m not sure if Julia and Anathema have noticed, but you’re far smarter than you seem.” You stand up straight and you feel a chill run up your spine.

“And how do you figure that?” you ask, voice hard and cold and he shrugs.

“Just a guess.” Liar. He knows something. Something in his eyes, a coolness far more benefitting of an enemy than a stranger. Then again you hardly know this man so maybe this is just how he normally is. Either way you are not sticking around to find out. You half turn to place a bandaged palm against Ophelia’s dappled grey neck before withdrawing your arm and starting for the door.

“Excuse me,” you nod and Chen steps to the side to allow you to pass though you only make it one step away before you pause, “Thank you,” you say without looking back at him, “For looking after my horse.” You don’t hear a reply and you don’t wait for as you walk back towards the house.

/////

As you step inside you hear noise coming from the kitchen and so you shut the door as quietly as you can, hearing it softly click shut before you slip off your boots and pad across the foyer. You intend on heading for your room and so you make for the stairs but as soon as your foot lands on the top step there is an almost comical creak that splits through the silence. The noise in the kitchen stops and you grit your teeth as you freeze also.

“Annie? Is that you?” you hear Anathema call and you sigh before taking a step back.

“Yes it’s me,” you reply.

“Do you mind coming into the kitchen. Please?” she adds and you have no reason to refuse her and so off down the hallway you go. You know the sky is quickly getting dark outside so the overhead light illuminating the kitchen washes the space in a warm yellow glow.

“Did you need me for something?” you ask as you stop in the doorway.

“No,” she smiles as she turns from the benchtop on which you spy half-chopped vegetables, “Just wanted some company. Sit,” she gestures to a chair and you take a seat as she turns her back on you to continue her task, “How are you feeling? Any pain?” she asks, words peppered with the sound of rapid chopping.

“I’m better,” you tell her, “Doesn’t hurt too much, stings if I move too quick and everything itches but no new pain,” you inform and see her nod.

“Good. No new pain is good.” She lapses into a silence which you decide to fill.

“How much did Julia tell you?” you ask and you see her pause, “I know you two spoke.”

“She told me everything.” Anathema’s voice is strangely quiet as you watch her shoulders hunch, “But I already had an idea of what was going on.”

“Oh?” you frown and you hear her sigh.

“I’ve come across people with afflictions such as yours before. Conditions exacerbated by troublesome upbringings and traumatic events.” Your fingers begin to curl into your palm before you hiss in pain and cease the action.

“And you believe I’ve gone through as such?” you ask as you stare at her back.

“Can you honestly tell me you haven’t?” she shoots back, spinning to face you as you take in the thinly veiled anger on her face, “You’re a young woman who was found half-burnt, battered bruised and all by herself in the middle of a forest and you’ve been here a couple of days now and no one has come looking for you.” Oh they will be. They just haven’t reached town yet. Though you realize Anathema makes a good point. Why haven’t they? While you haven’t exactly expected her to waltz out into the street you haven’t seen any of her associates since you arrived either, “What were you even thinking? Running off alone in that state? You could have died!” Your skin prickles as do your nerves.

“But I didn’t,” you snap, “I survived and I’m here. And I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” you admit.

“We always have a choice.” You scoff.

“That’s easy for you to say,” you lean back in your seat as you jut your chin out at her, “But you can trust what I say when I tell you it was either this or spend the rest of my life locked away with only a horror for company.” Vague enough, you hope. You watch Anathema’s features soften, her posture relaxing as she leans back against the counter, “Why are you so concerned about my well-being anyways?” you ask, “You barely know me and all I’ve done since arriving in this town is break into your house, eat your food and take up your time.”

“And are those things I should admonish you for?” you shrug and find you can’t meet her eye with the way she looks at you, “Annie, this is what people do when someone is injured. They care for them without expecting anything in return.” You laugh.

“Can you tell Chen that?” you ask her, “He seems very adamant on getting me to help about the house.”

“Oh don’t listen to him.” Anathema waved her hand in front of her face, “And I’m sure in time you will contribute in your own way, should you wish to stay.”

“Can I?” you ask far too quick, “Stay,” you clarify. You watch Anathema’s smile grow, the expression lighting up her face in a way that has your heart aching.

“For as long as you want.”

You give her a smile of your own as you sit across the kitchen from her and the longer you watch, the more you notice the sheer intensity of your gaze. She’s staring at you as if you would disappear were she to turn her head. You also pick up on a hesitance in how you watch her mouth open as if to speak though no words come out. How she takes a steps forwards before retreating back. And how ultimately you see her sigh before she drops her head. You frown.

“Are you okay?” you ask and when she lifts her head back up she looks so tired that it stuns you into silence.

“I’ve been better,” she admits.

“How about you sit down then?” you suggest, gesturing at the chair opposite you and she nods before pulling the chair out from beneath the table and slumping down into it. She stays silent and you have no idea what to say. The soundless aura doesn’t feel uncomfortable however, instead to you it feels… safe. You watch her as she drops her head into her hands, fingers grasping the top of her skull with a strength that has her knuckles turning white and the tiny scars on her hands even more so. You’re determined on waiting for her to feel like breaking the silence until you hear the unmistakable sound of crying, “Anathema?” you speak softly as you slide a hand across the table towards her, “What’s wrong?” you ask. Her arms fall to the table and when she looks at you there are tears staining her cheeks and making her emerald, green irises look startling against her otherwise red and puffy eyes. You find yourself holding your breath as you feel her fingers link with yours, but you don’t pull away. Something at the back of your mind is screaming at you not to.

“I-I wish I could tell you but-“ she cuts herself off.

“What’s wrong?” you asks, repeating words you heard mere hours before, “You can tell me.”

“I can’t,” her voice, unlike yours had, remains strong despite the sorrow.

“Why not?”

“I don’t…” she trails off and there’s a spark of a memory tugging at your attention, “I don’t want to hurt you.” That makes you frown even more.

“Hurt me?” you ask, “How would your truth hurt me?”

“Because some memories stay buried for a reason.”

You feel as if you’ve been submerged under ice as a chill envelopes so instantaneous that it sends pain throughout your entire body and you feel yourself freeze. The memory is now yanking on the soft flesh of your brain and it hurts.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask though your words sound far away and your eyes just won’t focus on her face.

“I… You lost someone right?” The tugging eases a touch as you feel something in your mind being shaken loose.

“I did,” you reply suddenly so sure where you weren’t before, “When I was young I lost my mother but-“

“-but there was someone else?” you mutely nod, “Do you remember who?”

Voice soft and gentle yet pleading and cracking.

“I…” you brow furrows and your vision begins to unfocus at the edges, “I don’t…I…” You have to think. You want to think. Come on! Remember! When? When???

When you lost not one but two. Your mother and… and a…a…

The world around you starts to fade as you become lost in a memory.

~~~~~

“Mommy?” The door to her bathroom is ajar but you hear nothing from within. No sound of moving water, no humming of a tune, just a stone-cold silence as you stand clutching your stuffed toy. Yet still you call out again, “Mommy?” Nothing. You take a breath as your heart leaps into your throat and you take a step forward with your hand outstretched. The door swings open at your touch and you step into the bathroom.

There’s a smell hanging thick in the air like metal you can taste and you wrinkle your nose as your eyes adjust to the dim and you find it strange that she didn’t leave the light on. Maybe she preferred to bathe in the dark? You wouldn’t know. You weren’t technically supposed to be here but you couldn’t find either of your sisters. You had ripped an ear off your stuffy and your mom was always so gentle at sewing parts back on, consoling you as you cried and apologized to the toy.

You can see shapes now in the half-dark and you can see the bathtub in which she lays and so you pad over to her.

“Mommy I ripped my doggy again,” you speak quietly, ashamed, “Can you please help him?” There’s no response from the figure in the tub and you feel as if something is wrong. You’re not sure what, you’re not sure why but she hasn’t even moved, hasn’t acknowledge your presence and as your eyes adjust that little bit more, you see why.

She has an arm dangling out of the tub and it hangs limply over the edge. Her usually pale skin looks wrong and you take a few steps closer to squint at the deep red coloring that pools over her forearm and drips steadily off the tips of her fingers.

“M-mommy?” you squeak and you reach out with a shaking hand to grab her own and it’s so cold and stiff and you gasp, yanking your limb back and splattering red across your front. Blood, you realize, as some of it gets on your face and you’ve bitten your tongue before to know what blood tastes like. You’re shaking. You’re scared. You stand on your tip toes to peer into the tub and the water isn’t clear, turned a murky red and her eyes are closed but you don’t think she’s breathing.

You stagger backwards as you cry out.

“Ada!!” you scream and from somewhere in the house you hear footsteps thundering towards you and you’re frozen where you stand until the door at your back slams open and you spin around as a figure rushes towards you.

“Annalise! What’s wrong?” she asks as she crouches to check you over and she must see the blood for she freezes, her head shooting up to the bath as you sniffle.

“I think mommy’s hurt,” you cry as you wipe your hand over your face. You go to turn but she grips your shoulders and fixes you with a thin smile.

“Hey,” her voice wavers and there’s a shine to her eyes, “It’s going to be alright you hear me?” you nod as a tear escapes your eye.

“I just wanted to her fix my doggy,” you hold up the stuff toy and your sister’s smile wavers.

“Go find Eva,” she tells you, “I’m sure she can help.”

“She never likes to help me,” you cry, “ And I couldn’t find her before,” you whine, “I couldn’t find either of you.” Your bottom lip trembles and her hands move to frame your head.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes on her words as she touches her forehead to yours, “I’m sorry you couldn’t find me but I’m sure if you call for her now you’ll find Eva. I just…” she moved back and you see her look to the tub, “I’ll help mom okay?” she tells you and you nod, “I promise I’ll be here for you later. Just go find Eva and I’ll come find you afterwards.”

“Promise?” you sniff and she boops you on the nose with a freckled finger as she smiles at you.

“I promise.”

~~~~~

“Annie?”

How long have you sat still for?

How long have you been relieving a past you had forgotten?

A memory buried so deep that it took the poking and urging of a stranger to unlock the heartbreaking event of your mother’s death. No.

No.

Not a stranger.

This woman before you is no stranger to you.

To a brain having had a piece slot into place.

You look from where you hands are clasped and you don’t know how to feel. So many emotions are swirling around inside your chest that you only feel a numbness that spreads down your arms.

“An-“

“You left me,” your voice is quiet and you feel just like a little kid again. You slide your hand from hers. There’s no response and you squeeze your eyes shut before lifting your head and glaring at her, “You said you would always be there for me and you left.” your voice is low and dangerous and you ball your hands into fists.

“I tried,” she cries, “I tried everything I could but as the oldest Eva had full custody and I-“

“And you just left!”

“To get help!” You sneer.

“But you didn’t get me out,” you reply and you’re shaking when you go to stand.

“Annalise I did everything-“

“Don’t!” you spit as you shake your head, “How could you live under this roof with that woman knowing what has happened?” you ask, “Knowing what I started, what I caused!” you shout, “Knowing that being here is just as dangerous as being trapped back home with Evangaline.” When she gets to her feet you step back. Right into the solid form of another. You freeze and turn and Julia is staring at you from where she stands in the entrance to the kitchen. Your mind is screaming at you and you stagger away from them both, cornered and afraid and you can barely hear her over the sound of your own heart.

“Annie it’s okay,” she speaks, arms out and face open. You shake your head with lips clamped shut.

“No. No no no. It’s not. It’s not,” you stutter and your head whips to Anathe- Adaline when you see her move.

“It’s okay Anna,” she tells you, “It’s going to be alright.” Words from long past, “She’s knows.” You frown.

“How-how- how much? How much!?” you spit out and you look back to Julia who halts her advance in favour of falling into a seat.

“Everything,” she breaths out as she meets your eye, “I know everything.”

Chapter Text

You stay frozen in the corner as her words throw themselves around inside your skull with enough force for a headache to bloom and your vision to blur. Everything. Everything. She knows everything. For how long? How long?

“How long?” you find yourself asking as you grip the strap of your satchel and your own voice sounds muffled - is that really you speaking?

“I had my suspicions before I found you in the woods,” Julia replies before her eyes flick to Adaline, “The rest… Themmy here filled me in on before you woke up the first night you spent here.”

That long. She’s known since you got here and yet she’s still treated you with a kindness you don’t deserve after what you caused.

“How could you?” you choke out a question to calm the thoughts and you see her frown, “After what I’ve done?” Your hands are shaking, your ears are ringing and there’s a fuzziness that’s descending upon you that has your legs feeling weak. It’s suddenly far too warm in this kitchen.

“It wasn’t your fault,” both Adaline and Julia reply at the same time and you know that’s a lie.

You can hear the whispers hidden behind the false emotion. All of this is your fault. He’s dead. She’s coming for you. You can’t stay here. The ringing in your ears is getting louder and you can see Julia’s mouth move and can hear the faint mumbling of words but your eyes are flicking to the door and you’re already turning. And she must know. Adaline must know of course she does. You always loved to run. She grabs your shoulder before you can even take a step and your stomach lurches in fear before you spin around and shove her as hard as you can.

You don’t think she was expecting that for she lets you go far too easily and through your blurred vision you see Julia shoot to her feet but then you are out of the kitchen, running down the hall and into the foyer, throwing the front door open and running into the night.

~~~~~

You’re not quite sure where your feet are taking you other than away from the lies at your back. You know you’ll be faster than them, speed fueled by panic and fear so similar to that fateful night. The air is cold against your face and the chill seeps from the sodden ground and soaks into your socks, numbing your feet before long. All you can hear is the breaths you take that form fog instead of words and the drumming on your heart in time with your steps and your chest aches, everything aches, but you keep on running. Until you’re not anymore. Until you find yourself standing outside a familiar house looking much different in the night but from the front window you spy a shape moving within and casting shadows on a wall. Your hearing comes back to you as you pound a closed fist against the wooden door, pain flaring to life in your balled up hand and when the door swings open you stumble and almost fall.

“Annie?” Elena catches you by the shoulders as you pitch forwards, “What’s wrong? Why are you out here by yourself?” She pushes you back to your feet and you watch as she looks you up and down while still holding your shoulders, “What’s wrong amor? You look awfully frightened.”

“Please,” you rasp, “Please can I come in?” you ask and though she sets her mouth in a thin line and her brows draw close in a frown she obliges, releasing you and stepping aside and you hurry into the warmth of her home. The door shutting at your back has you jumping and spinning around and you clasp your hands together at your front as Elena turns to you. Your eyes flick to the window and out into the street beyond before you turn your attention back to the older woman.

“What’s wrong cariño?” she speaks softly as she steps towards you and you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to say anything but what if Julia has already laid your secrets bare to another soul? Your mouth opens, closes again, eyes flick back to the window and you clear your throat.

“I just…” you trail off as you struggle to think of any excuse through the whirlwind of thoughts that are making you sway where you stand, “I had an argument with Julia,” is what you end up saying and its close enough to the truth that it should be easy to keep track of, “And I just had to get away.”

“At this hour?” Elena looks down to where your muddied socks have left dirt prints on her floor, “And without your shoes?” when she looks back to your face her own is a picture of pity and you feel your eye twitch.

“Can I stay here tonight? Please?” you ask and she nods almost immediately.

“Of course you can,” she gives you a soft smile that does nothing to banish the sadness in her eyes, “You’re always welcome here.” Her words usher in a much needed warmth that floods through your limbs and has your heart calming its stuttered beat, “Come. Follow.” As she heads off through the hall you do just that. It’s calm in here with the warm lights bleeding into every shadow, sneaking around every corner and leaving nothing shrouded in darkness and here you feel safe. You wrap your arms around yourself and you let out a long breath before coming to a halt as Elena stops outside a door and pushes it open, “Here you are,” she smiles up at you before you peak into the dimly lit room. You flick on the lights to observe it proper and although the interior is simple, a bed, a side table, a chest of drawers and a tall standing mirror, it’s enough.

“Thank you,” you breathe out a sigh of relief, stepping into the small paradise and turning to face your savior, “I… thank you Elena. I really appreciate this. I do apologize for tracking mud through your house and I promise I will clean it up-“

“Nonsense Annie,” she cuts off your ramblings with a wave of her hand, “You’re a guest in my house and I will hear of no such thing,” she grips the door frame and you see how her fingers tighten on the wood, “If you need to talk about anything-“

“It’s okay,” you speak a might too quickly and you grimace at your curtness, “Sorry,” you apologize again, “Thank you,” you nod your head with a small smile, “I don’t wish to talk right now but I am glad to know that you would lend an ear should I so wish to speak.”

“You’re most welcome,” she smiles back and her nose crinkles as her eyes shine, “Is there anything I can get you before I head to bed?”

“No, but,” you hesitate, “If Julia or Ad-Anathema come looking for me tonight I don’t wish to speak to them.” You see the question behind her eyes but it travels no further. All she does is smile.

“Okay,” she whispers in a way you know she’s confused at your request but polite enough to honor it anyway. You nod at her, curling your fingers into your palms as you step back further into the room, “Sleep well Annie.” She blows you a kiss before reaching for the doorknob and pulling the door shut softly behind her. You listen to her footsteps as she goes, getting fainter and softer until-

A loud series of banging echoes throughout the house sparking fear anew and you gasp for air as your heart stops inside your chest. You stumble backwards, chest aching and skin painfully tight and before your eyes the warmth of the lights flickers like fire dancing in the night.

“Julia.”

You blink and the fire is gone but the panic has not abated and you turn to look to the single window near the foot of the bed.

“Mama.” Even from here you can tell Julia is out of breath, “Is she here?”

“She is.” A beat of silence, “She said you argued.”

“I need to see her.” There’s sound of movement and you step closer to the window before realizing it has fallen silent out in the house.

“She doesn’t wish to speak to you Julia.” The edge in Elena’s voice is clear.

“Please, Mama, you don’t-“

“I don’t know what you said to that poor girl but she looked scared half to death!”

“Mama I know I…” words trail off followed by a sigh, “She’s not well Mama.” You bristle at her answer as you turn towards your possible escape and you disregard their words, letting their conversation fade into the background as you fumble for the latch.

Your hands are shaking, your fingers cold, but even when you get what you know to be as firm a grip as you can manage the lock refuses to budge. You grit your teeth and spit out a curse as you yank and rattle the latch in your frustration and it’s only when you hear a knocking on the door to your room that you freeze.

“Annie?” Julia’s voice calls out soft and low and you swallow back the prickle of fear that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. You remain silent and on edge as you pull back from the window and turn ever so slowly. Your eyes to drift downwards where you spy the tips of Julia’s boots through the inch gap between the bottom of the door and the hardwood floor. One of your hands grips your satchel whilst the other disappears into your pocket, “Annie I know you’re in there but you don’t have to say anything. As long as you let me speak. Okay?” You let out a harsh breath through your nose and after the silence has dragged on for long enough that you consider answering Julia speaks again, “Listen. I can’t pretend to understand what you’re feeling right now. The fear, the guilt - which you shouldn’t by the way.” Heat flushes to your face as you vision blurs, “You’re not to be blamed for what happened and I don’t want you to carry that burden amongst everything else that you have weighing heavy upon your mind and soul.” You take in air, breaths stuttering and body shaking, “You were a victim. Are, still. The unfortunate collateral of a much larger scheme and I’m sorry that you’ve had to struggle through what you have. But I’ve seen how strong you are, how stubborn you are,“ a quick chuckle, “And how sharp of a mind you possess and I believe you can help me. Help us!” She sounds so hopeful… “I’m sorry that we didn’t tell you right away Annie but would you have stayed had you known the truth from the start?” You wouldn’t have and you hate that she’s right. You wipe at the stray tears on your cheeks as you take a look back towards the stubbornly stuck window, “If you feel safer staying here tonight then I understand. I just… I hope that you’ll come back tomorrow.”

“I will,” you reply, surprising yourself not just with the words that pass through your lips but that they do so without an ounce of wavering.

“Good,” you hear Julia sigh, “Thank you.” You hear a shuffling and the feet retreat before she halts, “Oh and Annie?” A soft laugh has your panic abating a touch more, “That window has been jammed for years. It’d take a miracle to unstick it.” Your shoulders slump and you are treated to a laugh that echoes through the halls as Julia finally retreats, and leaves you be.

You pace to the door and crack it open just enough to peer down the hall. You spy Julia and Elena huddled together and their whispering is low enough that you can’t catch a single word they say. Which leaves a lot to your imagination. You withdraw into the room and shut the door and quietly as you can and you remove your hand from your pocket to thread it through your hair. You can’t believe it. You just… Your sister. Here. What sort of coincidence is that? You find yourself laughing, a disjointed and airy sound and you take a seat atop the well-made bed when your head starts to swim. You take a deep breath and fall back onto the covers only to bolt back upright when you hear a soft knock at the door.

“Annie? Are you okay?” Elena asks and your throat tightens yet you still manage to respond.

“I’m fine. Thank you,” you tell her after a short breath.

“Alright dear. Sleep well. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you reply and you listen to her soft footfalls as they slowly fade away until you hear the creak of a door being opened, and after that, silence. Still you wait a little while longer with only the soft groaning of a house settling to accompany you before you reach down and pull your socks off. You drop the sodden pieces of clothing to the floor before you wiggle your toes and shimmy up onto the bed, swinging your legs up onto the covers and laying back. Your panic has mostly fled from your body now yet as always you feel on edge. Why hasn’t she found you yet? Better yet, how has she not come for Adaline? She’s been here much longer than you and she remains unscathed and something about that just doesn’t sit right with you. You should ask her on the morrow. Sit down and talk like you used to and your fingers clutch at the fabric of your shirt as your heart skips a beat. That’s going to be a difficult and fraughtful conversation. One that you’re not looking forwards to but one that is necessary.

You should stop worrying. It’s not like you can change anything now. You should sleep. Regain your strength and sooth your thoughts for what is to come tomorrow and you hope the nightmares haven’t followed you through the streets. You hope you managed to loose them in the dark but by the way the wind picking up outside sound like whispers barely heard through thin walls you know they’ve found your sanctuary.

Maybe it’s a good thing, you think as you begin to drift off. A good thing that you didn’t manage to get that stupid window open. Let your memories scratch and pick at the lock, let them howl outside the window, let them bang on the glass for that you can ignore. You slide beneath the covers and pull them up over your head, flinching at the sound of thin branches scratching at the wall and you bring your knees to your chest as you close your eyes. You will ignore all that ails you for as long as you can and you’ve survive this far haven’t you? You can make it another day.

Just one more day.

Just keep going.

Just…

+++++

“You can’t keep her here Evangeline!”

You flinch at the volume of Ada’s shout as it carries throughout the house. You’re up on the landing, crouched and peeking through the balusters as you look down at your sisters who stand barely an inch apart by the front door. Your eyes flit from Ada to Evangeline as your older sister throws back her head and laughs.

“I think you’ll find I can,” she sneers and as if sensing your presence she turns and looks up to your vantage point on high and you freeze as you are caught in her gaze. Like a fly to a spider, trapped in a web sticky and inescapable, “Anna, sweetie, come down here won’t you?” Her voice is sweet, sickly so but she smiles at you and so you rise to your feet, hands twisting in the smooth satin of your dress as you make your way quickly down the stairs. Neither of your sisters gazes leave you until you are stood behind Evangeline, small hands balled up as your stomach twists in pain and your head swims in confusion. Evangeline smiles and extends a hand down to you, beckoning you forwards and you follow till you stand just behind her and she places a palm atop your head. You flinch again when her hand clenches and you feel her nails dig into your scalp but you don’t look up at her. Instead you look to Ada as she takes a step back and her eyes are shining, pale freckled cheeks red and stained with tears and you go to step out towards her only for the hand upon your head to tighten, stopping you in your tracks.

“Eva, please,” Ada pleads to your older sister, her eyes finally leaving yours to stare Evangeline down.

“I think you should go Adaline,” Evangeline replies and her voice is so cold and so hard and you’ve never heard her speak like this before. Your body itches, your palms clammy and you swallow down a fear that has your heart leaping into your throat and your hands trembling.

“Eva?” Ada breathes, “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh but I am, sister mine,” the voice above you shoots back, “Because as the head of this family it falls to me to take care of state affairs. It falls to me to keep things running and to ensure order is maintained and I cannot do that with a sister who does not have my back.”

“Please,” Ada takes a step towards you both, “Please just let me take Anna. Please Eva. If you truly care for her let her come with me so I can get her help,” Ada is crying and you are too and you grab at the skirt of your dress with one hand while the other wipes the snot from beneath your nose, “We don’t want her to end up like-“ her words are stopped of her own volition as Ada looks at you.

“How about this?” Evangeline purrs and when she removes her hand from your head you feel yourself relax, “We let her choose.” You look up to Evangeline and start when you find her already peering down at you, poison green gaze freezing you to the spot like one of the stone statues out in the yard. Something in her eyes screams danger but she’s your sister. She wouldn’t hurt you. Would she?

“Anna?” Ada’s voice, so soft and full of grief draws you from your thoughts and you turn to look at where she crouches an arm’s length away from you. Her smile is shaky and her arms even more so when she extends a hand out to you, “Would you like to come with me? Get away from all this?” she attempts a laugh but the twisting in your gut has your arm stopping from where it has begun to rise from your side.

“Yes Anna. Go with Adaline to an uncertain future and possible ruin,” Evangeline drawls, “Out into the unknown and the dark where many things could cause you harm.” You watch as Ada’s expression instantly twists to one you’ve only ever seen Evangeline wear before. Rage. And you take a step back.

“No no Anna please. I’m not angry at you. Please.” She reaches out for you and you take another step back until you are clutching at Evangeline’s leg, “Anna,” her voice breaks and tears flow anew and where before she had been crouching now your sister is on her knees.

“You should leave, Adaline,” Evangeline calls from and you flinch, grip tightening on her pants when she rests a hand on your shoulder, “Before you scare the kid even further.” You watch, frozen and confused as Ada gets to her feet, eyes ablaze with fury as she wipes the tears from her face.

“I’ll come back Anna. I’ll come back for you. I swear it!” she hisses.

“If you set foot in this house again,” Evangeline starts, “I’ll have my hounds rip you apart.” You see Ada turn her rage to your elder, hands tightening into fists and top lip curling as she takes a step forwards.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you Evangeline,” Ada snarls, “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not even a few years from now but eventually, your ego will grow so big that all it’ll take it the tiniest snag of a hook for it to burst,” your sister shakes her head, “And I hope I’ll be there to see it.”

“Unlikely,” Evangeline scoffs, “Now. Unless you have any other fantastical parting words I suggest you make and leave.” You see Ada shudder as she draws in breath, taking a step back to look at you and you find you can’t meet her eyes.

“I’ll be back later for my things.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“You’re a monster Evangeline,” you hear Ada spit, “And I hope you burn in hell one day.” The hand on your shoulder tightens but no more words are said. You only raise your gaze from the floor when the sound of thudding footsteps grows faint and by the time you look to Ada the last thing you see is her orange braid swinging at her back. Before she throws the front door open and disappears into the day.

+++++

“Is everything okay cariño?” Elena’s voice is enough to shake you from your stupor and you look up from your half-finished breakfast.

“I just have a lot on my mind right now,” you give her a half-hearted smile which she returns with one of her own. You look back to your plate and you’re not hungry anymore. You close your eyes, take a breath, and get to your feet, “Thank you for the breakfast Elena, but I should get going.”

“Before you do-“ your fingers curl into your palms at the sound of wood scraping on wood as Elena stands from the table. You turn to watch as she steps from the room towards the entrance to her house, only to return a few moments later with your boots in her hands, “Julia came by this morning while you slept to drop these off,” she explains against your frown as she approaches and holds out the shoes. They’ve been cleaned, you notice as you take them gingerly from her grip, “I hope you two will sort out whatever it is that has all this unpleasantness festering between you both,” Elena says as you drop your boots to the floor and bend to put them on. You stay silent to the so obvious attempt to fish for an answer though you know she wishes you to ease her unease, and confirm that you will disentangle the tendrils of the unknown. And you want to. You’ll try your best, at least. Despite it all.

You straighten yourself and pull at your shirt, pushing your hair back from your face from where it’s long since been freed from it’s braid. You give Elena a nod, and a smile that feels a tad more real and stable.

“Thank you Elena, for your hospitality,” you tell her and you’re met with a gentle touch to your shoulder and then another to your face as one of her hands cups your jaw. And you allow this touch as she gazes upon you with eyes full of love and kindness and she reminds you so much of your mother that you almost start crying.

“Anytime Annie,” the hand on your shoulder squeezes momentarily before Elena pulls away, “You come back anytime. Okay?”

“Okay,” you breath out, scared to say more against the emotion you feel clogging your throat and you turn before she can notice the shine in your eyes, “Thank you,” you mumble as you walk briskly from the room towards the front door and then finally out into the world.

/////

You’re finding it hard to knock.

You’re standing outside the house with one arm poised with a close fist raised from your side yet you stop before making contact with the wood. Why is this so hard?

“I see you came back.” The voice to your right makes you jump and turn your head to see Chen walking towards you.

“I did,” you reply cautiously as the strange feeling of familiarity descends upon you once more at the sight of him.

“Good,” he nods, stopping a couple arm’s length away from you.

“Oh?” you raise a brow as you hold yourself high.

“It’s good to see you’re more like Anathema.”

“As opposed to?” The silence is enough of an answer and you find yourself gritting your teeth, “You know as well.” you growl out as you turn to face him completely.

“I always knew. Even before Anathema revealed who you were.”

“How?” you ask him and the small frown that graces his features makes you realize that you’ve barely seen him show emotion before.

“I was with John the night he came to collect Anathema’s belongings,” Chen reveals, “I was told your memory was spotty, but truthfully I thought you were lying,” he mumbles.

“I would ask why you would think I would have need to lie but given that you were witness to my sister’s silver tongue…” You trail off, leaving the sentence open as you stare at Chen and it’s hard to remember the specifics but you recall a flash of the face before you albeit younger. With fewer grey hairs and a handful less scars but still them same wide-set jaw and high cheekbones, accompanied by an almost permanent look of disinterest, “Did you…” you begin and you hesitate, pursing your lips before you continue, “Did you help him? With trying to secure my escape?” you ask to which Chen nods.

“I wasn’t as involved, my name was on no letters as you would know.” Well he’s not dead so that’s as obvious as anything, “But I did what he asked of me when he asked it of me.”

“We’re you with him when he died?” you ask and the man before you stiffens.

“No,” he spits through clenched teeth, “I was not.” Now you’re curious. You see how his hands twitch as you question him and there’s more to this than he’s telling you. You so much so want to ask what it is he is withholding from the light but there’s a sound from within the house that draws your attention and reminds you of more pressing matters.

“I should head inside,” you speak and Chen nods before half-turning away though he stops when you take half a step towards him, “Thank you,” you give him a small smile, “For doing what you could.” You don’t think he’s used to getting praise. Either that or he’s not sure if you’re being sincere as his face tightens into a frown until he nods again, turns, and heads back to the makeshift stable. You should check on Ophelia later. Key word later. Right now? You should knock on the door.

You turn, take a deep breath, raise your arm, and knock.

/////

They’ve done their best to give you space but you’ve still chosen to stand as the three of you gather in the front room. The silence in the air would be deafening were it not for the steady ticking of a clock you can hear echoing from somewhere else inside the house. Adaline sits in a high-backed chair with her hands gripping the armrests as she looks up at you. There’s so many emotions flickering upon her face that you’re hard-pressed to pin any one down. Julia stands to her side wringing her hands together as she gives you a nervous smile and someone will have to speak at some point.

“I’m glad you came back,” Julia finally says and you shrug.

“It isn’t like I have anywhere else to go,” you reply just to watch her face fall and you let out a sigh, “Apologies,” you speak up, “That’s not quite true. Well, I don’t have anywhere else to go but I also came back because I do want to help. And I can help,” you speak, looking to Julia only as you unclasp your satchel and retrieve the ledger from within. You look down at the book in your hands with its covers old and worn, pages bulging and some jutting out at odd angles and you grip it tightly before looking up, “This…” you trail off and take a breath, “This should help.”

“What is it?” Julia asks softly as she steps towards you holding out an arm for the offering within your grasp and as you move your arms to place the book into her waiting hand you find yourself strangely reluctant to part from it.

“A ledger,” you tell her and now that the book rests in her hand, you let it go. And you feel as if a weight inside yourself has been shifted, “Recorded dealings with numerous clients spanning back years.” Julia looks at you with a strange shine to her eyes and you notice the hesitance to which she opens the book and begins to leaf through the pages. You both fall silent as you watch her eyes scan through entry after entry and you watch her complexion pale and her eyes widen just that bit more after each passage she absorbs.

“This…” Julia’s voice is quiet when she speaks, “This is…” When the pages stop moving and her hands still she lifts her head to look at you, “What exactly am I looking at?” she asks and your heart thuds once, painfully, inside your chest.

“A log of meetings,” you say and you’re glad your voice is steady, “Some more violent than others.”

“I’d say,” Julia mumbles with a shake of her head before closing the book with a soft thud, “They’re extremely… detailed. The beatings.” As if that needed clarification.

“She wanted nothing less,” is all you say as you clasp your hands together at your back to hide the shake in your arms. You watch Julia open her mouth only to snap it shut with a grimace that morphs into a frown when Adaline clears her throat, “Right. Right…” Julia trails off and she peers over a shoulder towards the stairs, “I’m going to head up to my office.” She turns back to look at you, “If you’d like to speak to me later-“

“Then I’ll know where to find you,” you give her a terse smile and your eyes slip past to the tense form of your sister sitting hunched over in the chair and staring at the ground between her feet. A heavy silence falls like a blanket over you all and you watch Julia shudder before she reaches out for you. You go still, but all she does is lay a hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you Annie,” she smiles at you like you’ve just given her the answers to the universe, “This-“ she lifts her arm and shakes the hand holding the ledger, “This is going to change everything,” she grins at you, her hands squeezing your shoulder and you can’t help but smile back. When she withdraws she does so slowly until she steps away, spins on the spot and strides for the stairs.

And then it was two.

Clock ticking away. Fingers gripping air, eye twitching.

“You should sit, Anna,” a tired voice speaks and you look to Adaline as she stares up at you, eyes rimmed red and framed by shadows.

“I’ll stand,” you reply and you ignore the ache in your legs as you shift on the spot.

“Suit yourself,” she shrugs though the motion is barely acted out, just a slight jolt of her shoulders that gives the expression meaning. She looks as uncertain as you feel and you can’t blame her for not wanting to be the first. There are so many questions swirling in the air between you both. Questions that need to be asked and answered but it seems Adaline is just as reluctant as you to break the proverbial ice. But there is something you want to know. More than one thing but you have to start somewhere.

“Why hasn’t she come for you?” you ask and Adaline blinks, “If you’ve been here all this time, then why hasn’t she come for you?” Your sisters mouth twists into a mirthless smile.

“Because I don’t matter to her,” she says. A sentence that would be heartbreaking were it uttered by anyone else and spoken so matter-of-factly to be anything but the truth. Silence falls and now you feel is the right time to ask the one question that has plagued your mind in the spaces you can remember.

“Why didn’t you come back for me Adaline?” you ask and inside your head anger and grief wage war.

“I tried to,” she chokes on her words, green eyes shining, “But any time I got close there would be something to prevent me from getting to you,” when she breathes in your can hear the shake and you remember snippets of your dream.

“She said she’d set the dogs on you…” you mumble and the look Adaline gives you is sharp.

“You remember?” she asks with a raised brow and you thin your lips.

“Barely,” you admit, “There’s a lot I don’t recall but last night I think I dreamt about it. About the last time you set foot in the house. It was a better dream then most I tend to have,” you tell her, “But I still don’t understand why you didn’t try harder,” you ask with a sharp and pointed edge to your voice.

“I was always worried she would hurt you if I persisted. That’s why I went to John for help.” She looks you up and down, eyes lingering upon the bandages that wrap your body still, “Did she ever hurt you?” she asks and you laugh at that. A bark of a sound that lasts no more than a second before you speak.

“She was never physically abusive towards me,” you assure her, “But you better than anyone know that she didn’t need to use her fists to hurt you.”

“Then what?” Adaline whispers and as she goes to push herself up from her chair you step away and fall into the armchair at your back.

“She made me watch,” your feel the corners of your lips flicker, “That ledger is penned in my hand. She had me watch and record and listen and scrutinize everything that her guests did just so that she would have an upper hand.”

“Why make you watch?” She sounds horrified.

“I don’t think she really knew what to do with me,” you admit and your eyes go to the window as you look out at the clear blue sky, “I don’t think she wanted to admit there was anything wrong at first. But as I got older, things became…harder.” Walking the halls late at night and whispers on the wind. Your brows draw close, “She wanted to keep an eye on me at all times so having me there in the room? Well…” you chuckle and peel your eyes away from a pair of sparrows that have landed in the garden, “Two birds with one stone.”

“Did she…” you look to Adaline who licks her lips and intertwines her fingers into a locked grasp that she then rests upon her closed knees, “Did she ever make you participate?”

Scrubbing out blood from beneath your nails. The water turning your pale skin a blistering red.

“Once…” you mumble, half-caught in a memory best forgotten.

“What happened?” she asks and you feel like you’re moving through molasses when you turn your head to gaze at her.

“I almost killed a man.”

“Anna…” she breaths your name in such a way that has your face flushing with heat and your thoughts kicking up a storm. You’re shaking and there’s no way you can hide it not with how intently she’s staring at you, as if you’d run were she to look away. Maybe you would. You know you would. If you had anywhere else to go.

“I just couldn’t take it.” You’re on the verge on tears and you lean forwards, gripping your knees as you keep your eyes glued to the tops of your boots, “Her anger was getting worse, her temper more volatile and I couldn’t stay there anymore so I left. Started a fire.” Your arms are itching, “With lot of booze and a small spark.” Flames rushing up, consuming all in its path, “Didn’t even feel it at the time,” your laugher is strained.

“I’m sorry,” Adaline speaks and you close your eyes against the sound of her grief, “I know it’s not enough,” she continues when you remain silent, “But I am sorry. I should have fought harder to get you back but I was just…”

“Scared?” you offer as you lift your head to peer at her. She nods wordlessly and you lean back into your chair with a deep sigh, “I’m… sure you did your best,” you say without looking at her and you pretend not to hear the sob that fills the otherwise quiet room. The clock ticks away and once more you turn your head to look out the window. The yard is empty. The sparrows have fled. You clear your throat and push yourself into standing while Adaline does the same and then you are standing before her and her before you and her eyes are bloodshot and she reaches for your hands. Your heart is thumping behind your ribs but you let her grasp your hands, her fingers sliding over your own and she’s ever so gentle with you. You can feel your sorrow rise up your throat and you have to avert your gaze when she brushes her thumbs over the backs of your bandaged hands as she looks into your eyes.

“I know that it’s not going to be easy,” she speaks softly, “But I’d like for us to be closer.” You swallow down the lump in your throat, “I wish to be here for you like I should have been years ago and I hope that you can forgive me for leaving. I’ve… never been able to forgive myself and it haunts me every day, the thoughts of what could’ve happened to you but you’re here now.” When you look to her you see that although tears spill from her eyes and run down her cheeks she is smiling, “And that means things can heal. We can heal.” You hope it’ll be that easy.

“I would like that,” your smile feels uncertain but in your heart you wish to try and your willingness, however hesitant, seems to be enough for your sister who beams at your through the sadness and lets go of your hands to pull you into a hug. It’s strange at first, unexpected, and so for the first few seconds of the embrace your arms stick out awkwardly at your side. But then your brain catches up and you slowly wrap your arms around her shoulders and rest your chin atop her head. You both hear and feel her sigh as Adaline melts into the hold and her grip only tightens as you close your eyes and draw her in closer. You’re not sure how long you stand there for in the middle of the front room but eventually you pull apart and Adaline wipes at her face as she steps away.

“Thank you,” she smiles and you return the expression before you look towards the stairs.

“I’m going to see if Julia needs any help,” you tell her, “I know she’ll have questions that she’s dying to get the answers to and I said I would assist if needed so…” you trail off and Adaline claps you on the shoulder.

“Go on then,” she chuckles, “I have a feeling you’ll be up there for a while so just take it easy, okay?” You nod.

“I’ll do my best,” you reply, looking at where her hand is resting on your arm and it’s such a casual touch. You’ve missed it. When she pulls her arm back you make for the stairs without another word.

/////

You knock on the door to the study and hear Julia’s muffled voice call out from within.

“Enter!” You open the door and do as such, pushing it shut with a hand extended at your back as you focus your attention on the woman sat behind the desk. She looks up from her work as you enter and you further inside the cluttered mess of a room to stand before her, “Everything okay?” she asks and there’s that look in her eyes again. The one where she knows something you don’t and is trying (and failing) to hide it.

“Could be better,” you shrug, “Though it could be a lot worse.”

“How are you feeling?” she asks again and this time she drops the pen she had been holding and it lands soundlessly amongst the papers before her as she leans back in her chair while she observes you.

“I’m… alright,” you reply after a moment’s hesitation, “There’s minimal pain now. Everything beneath the bandages is just starting to get itchy.”

“That just means it’s healing.”

“Yes I know that,” you reply with a huff, “Just because I grew up sheltered doesn’t mean I’m not knowledgeable,“ you tell her, “I had an entire libraries worth of knowledge at my fingertips. All I did was read.”

“You didn’t go out?” Julia asks with a frown and you watch her clasp her hands together and hunch forwards to rest her elbows on the desk. Shit. Why did you say that? Oh what’s the point. Adaline’s probably filled her in on most other things and maybe it’ll do you good to talk about it.

“Okay,” you breathe out as you take a seat in a small chair (that you swear was not in the room before) in front of the desk, “No,” you say, “I didn’t. I wasn’t allowed.”

“She didn’t let you?” You shake your head.

“She cared for me under the guise of an over-protective sibling and at the very beginning I wish to believe it was genuine. When our mother died it’s… foggy. But I recall that both her and Ada helped to raise me in the years after and Ada must have shielded me from the worst of her antics but then I got sick…” you trail off as you look down at your hands twisting in the fabric of your shirt. A dream half-remembered, “Ada wanted to take me away and well, Evangeline was having none of it,” you scoff as you look up at Julia who’s thinned lips give away her unease, “When I was young she used the excuse of my illness to keep me from venturing off the grounds but as I grew up and grew restless she realized she could use me.”

“Use you how?” Julia asks and you smirk when you look at her. You can see the ledger open on her desk and your old letters strewn above it.

“You must know,” you tell her, inclining your head towards the papers, “I watched and learned the secrets of many people. Some small, some influential, all dangerous towards the end.”

“Then you’re in danger,” Julia says with a stern expression and clenched fists. To that you laugh. Loudly and with your head thrown back.

“Julia Ortega I have been in danger my entire life!” you snort, “The only difference now is that the person who once offered me sanctuary and protection is top of the list on wanting me dead.”

“We won’t let her get you,” Julia vows as she leans even further forwards in her seat and you smirk.

“I don’t doubt it,” you reply, “But it brings me ease with how confident you were with that answer,” you smile. The silence that falls is like an embrace, warm and comfortable but the moment Julia’s smile disappears you brace yourself.

“What was it like growing up in that house?” she asks and you take a deep breath before you answer.

“I don’t recall a whole lot of it,” you admit, “There are gaps in my memory still, although I am remembering more each day I am here.”

“Then what do you remember?” Julia asks with a frown and an insistence and you sink into the cushions and into your memories as you let the past envelope you.

“I remember the rage,” you hear yourself say, “There’s an anger that plagues my family. An illness that haunts us each. I’ve been told I’m much like my mother,” you tell Julia, “In that what ails me is similar to what plagued her and eventually led her to claiming her own life.” You barely hear the sharp intake of breath from your audience of one, “Evangeline’s anger was a sight to behold,” you frown and you feel your mind wander further into the unknown, “Her mood turning like the flip of a switch and it was starting to affect me too. Her gravity was drawing me in, making me more like her and I- I couldn’t stay,” you stumble on your words. Your body feels light, your head adrift. The room before you seems to warp as your vision swims and shakes and you struggle to keep yourself grounded. But you know you’ve already lost. You can feel it, “There was a man…” you mumble, “And she was bored that day and she…”

“Go on Annalise. Let me see what you can do.”

A prickle of fear runs up your spine and dances behind your eyes and the warmth of your face is a stark contrast to the chill that wraps itself around your limbs like another layer of bandages.

He stares at you, eyes wide and afraid and you can’t tear your gaze away. Can’t show weakness, can’t defy her and there’s a part of you that sings for the violence. Yearns for it like a necessity instead of the brutality you know it is but she’s right there are you can’t-

There’s a fuzziness to your thoughts that grows louder and a tightness in your chest that makes it hard to breathe and you’re barely drawing in air through the short shallow gasps you feel yourself taking.

He runs. Or he tries to. But you’re quicker. You dart forwards and before he even has time to get halfway across the room you grab the back of his collar and yank him hard enough that he goes flying to the ground. Strength of the insane, the tiny words flutter at the back of your mind as he scrabbles back on the carpet pleading words that fall upon deaf ears. You heart is thumping, your head is screaming and all the while she sits behind her desk, and smiles.

“Annie?” Soft words, soft touch. A hand laying itself upon your cheek and you blink rapidly to banish the fog covering your eyes and mind, uncovering the worried face of Julia as she crouches down to stare intently into your eyes, “Are you okay?” she asks and you simply shake your head as you draw in deep gasping breaths while holding a hand to your chest, “I’m sorry…” she murmurs and you shake your head again, closing your eyes and leaning into her touch and when she strokes your cheek you sigh.

“I’m okay,” you say when you find your words and you can’t tell her it wasn’t her fault if you want to be truthful, “I just… something I have to deal with,” you speak softly.

“But it shouldn’t be,” Julia replies and she’s still holding your face like a delicate thing, “Is there anything I can do to help?” When you open you eyes her face seems to have moved even closer.

“Just being here helps,” you smile, “Being here with people who care in an environment that facilitates healing and prioritizes nurture over, well, what I had before,” you breathe out a sigh of relief, “It’s helping.”

“Good,” she replies as she gives you a lopsided grin. The same one she bared when she found you in the woods and when she draws closer your heart skips a beat. She’s so close now that you can feel the warmth of her breath as it washes over your face and you watch as her eyes dart down to your lips before returning to your eyes, “May I kiss you?” she asks, her voice soft and sweet and who are you to refuse such a request.

“You may,” you grin and she snorts out a laugh before bringing her other arm up to cup your face at the same time to raise your hands and clasp them behind her neck. You draw each other in almost at the exact same time and when your lips meet, you feel like you’re finally home.

Chapter Text

You feel lighter than you ever have before. Happier than you ever remember being.

You’re unsure of when you stood to your feet as you melt into the hands of the woman at your front. But never-the-less you tighten your hold around the back of her neck and let out a hum of utter contentment into her lips. You feel her thumbs dance over your cheeks as she deepens the kiss before her hands trail down your neck and you shiver as they come to rest upon your shoulders. You raise your own hands, reaching for her braid and undoing the tie that has it keeping its shape. You feel a warmth spur to life within your chest, the heat shooting through your body and curling deep in your gut. But unlike the flames that previously licked at your skin this warmth is a pleasant one, a feeling you wish to keep tucked inside.

Until Julia presses herself flush against your front, and a sharp blistering pain sparks across your chest.

You gasp, body tensing and you yank your arms back, placing your covered palms against Julia’s shoulders and pushing her away. The pain trickles across your front, shooting up your neck and trailing down your abdomen and arms and you grimace, eyes squeezing closed as you suck in air through clenched teeth and double over as you fling an arm out to steady yourself against the desk.

“Shit! Annie I’m so so sorry!” you hear Julia babble and when you feel a hand upon your back you shrink away.

“Don’t touch me,” you rasp as you do your best to draw deep even breaths. Stay calm. It’s just pain. It’ll fade.

You’re not sure how long it is before the pain indeed does ebb away, but your back is aching when you finally groan and straighten up. The first thing you see when your blurred vision clears is Julia standing an arm’s length away with her hair loose and free, ringing her hands together as she stares at you with a frown.

You feel your lips quiver.

You let out a snort.

And then you begin to laugh.

You catch a glimpse of confusion painted across the strong-jawed face opposite you before Julia’s lips split into a grin as her laughter joins yours.

“I can’t believe that I forgot about the burns,” you shake your head with a twist of your lips as your laughter pitters out enough for you to string together a sentence, “Your fault, Miss Detective.”

“Mine?” Julia mock gasps, placing a finger-splayed hand against her sternum as her laughter drifts away.

“You distract me so,” you reply, laying on a sickly sweet tone as you batter your eyelashes and casue Julia to snort, “I ought to keep away from you, lest I be scarred forever.” Joking to hide the truth you don’t want to voice. The fact that you know you’re never going to heal quite right. Burned too deep in some places for you to know that you’ll never regain feeling proper. Marred forever by the turmoil of your past.

“You’d miss me if you left,” Julia offers you a warm smile, one that pulls you from your thoughts and you return the expression in kind.

“Hmm. Maybe,” you reply as the bronze-skinned woman rolls her eyes. You would. So much so that it scares you. You’ve only known her for a short while but it seems your lives have been linked together longer than you first realized. Intertwined by the strands of fate.

One good snip…

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Julia asks and you blink back the blurriness from your eyes when you feel a soft touch against the cooled skin of one of your cheeks.

“I’m alright,” you reply with a smile. And it’s not even a lie this time. You press your hand against hers where she rests it upon the side of your face and you breathe in deep, ignoring the pain that sparks through you still, “So,” you breathe out as you look into the warm pools of her eyes, “Where do we go from here?”

“Hmmm, I was thinking lunch?” Julia grins and you roll your eyes, pulling away from her hold as you smack her on the shoulder.

“Idiot,” you huff, “I meant with all… that,” you throw your arm out, gesturing towards the papers strewn across the surface of her desk and almost forgotten in the heat of the moment. You watch as she turns towards the truth, takes a deep breath and then blows it out long and hard through her mouth as a whistle.

“There’s a certain… process to these kind of things,” she tells you as you watch her pace towards the desk, place her hands at the polished edge and lean in, “We have names, times and… well… prices,” she heaves a sigh, “But we have to take this slow. We can’t afford to spook anyone.”

“All very interesting but you’re avoiding the question,” you point out and she laughs.

“You’re right, you’re right,” she chuckles as she spares you a glance before returning her attention to the ledger kept open, “I need to go through this and compile evidence,” she pokes a fingers at the pages, “Look for repeat ‘customers’ and write down what they either offered or had taken from them. Pool my information and then… go from there.” She turns to look at you, leaning back against the desk before she runs a hand through her waves.

“That sounds all rather mundane,” you can’t help the strange laugh that leaves you, “All of what I’ve gone through – what we’ve all gone through,“ you correct yourself, “Boiling down to… paperwork,” you chuckle with a shake of your head.

“Unfortunately Annie, that’s how a lot of things go if we want to do this by the law,” Julia gives you a small smile. By the law. Right, “This will take time,” Julia pushes herself off from the desk, her expression softening at whatever she sees in your face and posture, “But trust me when I say I will do everything I can to bring her to justice.” You follow her with tired eyes as she crosses the room to take your bandaged hands in hers, “And I promise you that I will keep you safe.”

“As you said,” you give her a wry smile that you know flickers at the edges, “I trust that you will do everything in your power to convict her but finding those who have faced her wrath and would willingly speak against her? That, my friend, will be a monumental task,” you blow out a breath, “One that I will help with as much as I am able to.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she replies with a crooked smile as her eyes flit down to your lips. You laugh before she leans in and you do the same, meeting her lips in the middle. The kiss is soft and brief but no less heart-stopping and when you step away the lightness in your chest remains, “So!” Julia grins, “We have our plans for the far future settled, but what about the immediate?”

“I’m thinking lunch?” you reply with a matching expression and she chuckles before turning back to her desk. You watch as she shuts the ledger before rounding her desk, placing the worn book into a drawer before locking it away and pocketing the key. You’re glad that she’s taking this seriously. That for all her joking, wide smiles and shining eyes there’s a woman who strives for the truth.

“Come on,” she places a hand on your shoulder, startling you out of your thoughts, “Let’s go round up the others,” Julia says as you both head from the room, “I’m thinking we go out for lunch today. The weather is nice enough, and you really ought to get out of the house,” she chuckles. You want to argue with her, tell her you’d rather stay in to avoid prying eyes and wandering thoughts but when she looks back at you over her shoulder, you find any words you want to bring forth dying in your throat. Her smile is wide and her eyes are kind and she makes you feel… safe.

Safe. Finally.

/////

You don’t want to admit that she was right. That going outside has helped. Walking beneath the sun and the slight warmth, the cooling breeze brushing over your exposed skin and feeling the solidness of the ground beneath your boots. Surrounded by those you’ve come to know over the last few days you feel, not at peace exactly, but, comfortable. As comfortable as you can be, given your situation at least. You’re still uneasy at the thought of being seen, being known. The people in town turn their heads to greet your group as you pass on by, their eyes lingering on you, the outlier and you can’t exactly hide yourself amongst people shorter than you. So you give the strangers a smile as their eyes linger on the gauntness of your face and the haunted depth of your eyes but when they look you over, spy the bandages wrapped around the parts of you bared to the world you see something in their eyes that both irks and surprises you.

Pity.

They don’t know you and yet they feel sorry for you. Their eyes never linger long after that, darting away in embarrassment at having been caught staring yet polite enough to not mention a thing. You’re not used to all this and the others must know. There actions show as such. Julia leads your group, talking to those who stop to say hello and to exchange pleasantries while Chen brings up the rear, silent and stoic. Leaving you and Adaline side by side in the middle.

“Are you okay?” Adaline asks you after you’ve all been stopped for the fifth time. There’s a prickling beneath your skin and you long to itch at your covered arms. Instead, you settle for grabbing fistfuls of your pants to keep from tearing at your bandages.

“I’m fine,” you reply too quickly as your eyes dart to those who gazes fall upon your group, “Just didn’t realize how well liked you all were,” you try your hand at humor but without looking to your sister, your only indication that your joke having been received is a low hum, “I don’t like the staring,” you confess once the latest townsfolk has passed by.

“The only reason they’re staring is because you’re new,” Ada’s voice is soft at your side and the touch to your arm even more so. You look down at her then to see her brows drawn and her smile reassuring, “The more you step out into the world the less they’ll gawp at you,” she says and you wish you could believe her but the hairs on the back of your neck have not gone down since you stepped over the threshold of the house. You feel warm, your feet ache and your chest hums with a low level pain. Not enough to be agonizing but present enough to be a constant reminder as you walk along cobbled streets. The fabric of your pants twists in your tightening grip and you swallow down the lump in your throat as dissonant whispers begin to drift to your ears on the winds. Why do you feel so on edge? Why is it that you continue to feel like this after so much reassurance? You’re safer now than you think you’ve ever been yet you still feel such an unease that it has your breath quickening and your stomach flipping and you-

You feel a hand slip into one of your own, your grip having been pried from where you would have torn through your pants had your skin not been covered and it takes effort for you to move your gaze from where you had been staring a hole into the back of Julia’s head to the freckled hand gripping yours tight. The whispers ebb away, your breathing regains its rhythm and your heart slows its pounding as you look into eyes of green.

“You’ll be okay,” your sister smiles at you with eyes shining as you give her a wavering smile of your own, “It may be a number of years from now,” one side of her mouth quirks upwards, “But you’ll get better.”

“Promise?” you huff a quiet laugh as Julia slows at your front.

“I promise,” Ada’s grip momentarily tightens and you watch as her thumb gently caresses the back of your hand. A notion which you cannot feel and you feel a frown come unbidden to you face, “I won’t leave you again Annie,” she speaks further and this time it’s you who tightens your grip, “I made that mistake before. I will not make it again.”

“Good,” you huff with a smile as Julia pushes and holds open the door to a (from what you can see on a quick glance) mostly unoccupied café. You pull your hand away as you enter behind Ada and follow her as she leads you, weaving through the quaint set up sprawled throughout the interior, “I don’t think I’d quite know what I’d do if you left again,” you find the words leaving quietly through your lips but the woman at your front must hear you for she tilts her head just so as she takes a seat at a table near the back. She gestures for you to take the other on her left which you do.

“Good thing we’ll never have to find out then,” she gives you a smile which you return before your attention is captured by the bronze-skinned woman who takes the seat before you and pulls herself into the table. Her legs stretch out beneath the lacquered wooden top and you feel her nudge you with a foot to which you look at her with a tilted smile and raised brow. She just smiles back with a twinkle in her eyes and a tapping of a finger on the tabletop. And as Chen takes a seat besides Julia the image of him, all hard lines and no nonsense, sitting upon a chair that seems barely able to hold the bulk of his weight, you can’t help but huff a laugh.

It's nice here, you realize as you spy a waiter approach. Sitting in this café with people who have been tied to you for so many years, whether you knew it or not. People who, in one way or another, care for you in some degree.

This is the safest you’ve ever been. And the happiest you remember being in such a long time.

“So what’s next?” you find yourself asking after orders are taken and it’s just you four alone once more, “Overall, I mean,” you clarify. You clear your throat and find yourself sitting straighter, “I really do appreciate your hospitality but if I am to be staying with you for the foreseeable future, I want to help,” your hands curl into fists and you feel your determination like a fire blazing inside your chest.

“You want to help with my cases?” Julia asks as she watches you with a strange smile, reaching across the table for your hands.

“If that is where you think I could be most of use?” you smile back as you slip your bandaged fingers into her waiting palms.

“I think with your knowledge and skills, I’d be lucky to have you assist me,” Julia replies, giving your hands a slight squeeze that you can barely feel as you gaze into her eyes.

“And what about you Chen?” you ask as your gaze drifts up to the man with folded arms and a frown. He stares back at you with his lips pursed and you have to remind yourself that once, a long time ago, he tried to help.

“I suppose you could be an… asset to this team,” he replies with a grunt, “As long as you pull your weight.” You feel a tension bleed from your bones as you pull your hands from Julia’s and sit back in your chair.

“Thank you,” you breathe out with a smile and while he does not return the expression, he does give you a nod. And then you notice that his eyes have lost a fraction of the wariness and mistrust that they had once held.

“Then it’s settled!” Adaline grins from where she sits as your side and her eyes blaze with hope when you turn your head to look at her.

“I guess it is,” you grin back.

“Ah! That should be our food,” Julia raises a hand and you perk up as your lunch is delivered to your group.

The atmosphere is pleasant. The company even more so and your future is looking bright.

Nowhere to go but up.

Chapter Text

Your eyes open to the distant sound of birdsong and the tantalizing smell of freshly baked bread. Soft rays of morning light stream in through your window and you can’t help but smile before you stretch your arms above you with a yawn that tapers off into a sigh as a soft pair of lips press a gentle kiss to the supple skin of your neck.

“Morning...” you breathe, turning your head to capture Julia’s lips in a kiss. You feel her smile against your own before you deftly slide an arm beneath the expanse of her shoulders, grip her waist with your other hand, and hold tight. A light laugh peppers your cheek as Julia pulls her face back just enough that you can gaze into the warmth of her eyes without your vision doubling.

“Good morning,” she smiles at you and your heart flutters in your chest at the husky tones of her early morning voice. Your grip tightens on her waist and you watch as her grin shifts into something a touch hungrier, her eyes shining in the warm light, “Getting a little handsy now are we?” her grin is lopsided and you smirk against her bravado before you half sit up and roll yourself until you’re straddling Julia, your thighs pinned either side of her stomach.

“And what if I am?” you smile down at her, tilting your head and watching out the corner of your eyes as curls of orange swing into view.

“Hmmm...” Julia hums, the wordless sound pitching into a breathy laugh as you slide your hands over her nightshirt, tracing a path up her sides, “Then I’d say...” she starts, words momentarily faltering as your thumbs graze the underside of her covered breasts before continuing their path upwards and coming to rest on her shoulders, “Th-then I’d say...” Words repeated with a slight stutter cause you to smirk above her, “Wait until after breakfast.” Your resulting pout has the woman beneath you chuckling.

“You’re no fun,” you huff in jest, rolling off your girlfriend back to your side of the bed before swinging your feet off the mattress and rising to stand.

“You know you love me,” the reply at your back has you smiling, an expression Julia can’t see and as you hear shuffling behind you you turn around to pull the bed covers back into place.

“Do I?” you quip, dragging your gaze upwards to direct a half-lidded smile at Julia as she straightens her side of the bed, “I guess I must.” You watch as she rolls her eyes before aiming a smile at you.

“I’m sure it must be agony to share a bed with me each night,” Julia drawls, tipping her head back as she places the back of a hand to her forehead in a mock motion of an almost faint, “However will you cope?” You take the chance of her momentary distraction to pick up your pillow and hurl it across the bed at the woman only half turned towards you. The soft object hits the side of Julia’s face with a soft and barely audible thump as you snort a short laugh.

“Ass,” you shake your head and as Julia faces you with a twinkle in her eyes you raise an arm and point a finger at her, “Do not,” you warn but your not even threat is dampened further by the grin you can feel stretching your lips.

“Fine fine,” Julia chuckles before tossing your pillow back atop the bed, “I guess that was too easy a chance.” You smile again, watching your girlfriend as she rounds the bed, morning rays bathing her in a wave of golden light and you can’t help but stare at the marvel that is her. Can’t help but feel so lucky to have this sight greet you each morning as it has for the past year. Can’t help but feel a small twinge of dread each day that passes without hide nor hair of your oldest sister. Stop. You feel your smile slip from your face as Julia slows to a stop before you, her joy shifting in to concern at the falling of your expression, “Hey...” she calls to you softly and you watch her frown, fingers hovering over your forearms only lightly skimming across your marred skin and its only when you take a shuddering breath does she lay her hands gently upon you, “Are you okay?” she asks and you raise your arms, gripping Julia’s shoulders tight enough that you can feel a twinge of discomfort in your fingers, and see a wince of pain on Julia’s face. You drop your arms, closing your eyes momentarily as you take a breath before drawing a smile to your face.

“I’m okay,” you give a short nod, “Sorry,” you laugh before Julia leans in and kisses you softly upon your forehead.

“What have I said,” she murmurs, lips still pressed to your skin and you wrinkle your nose against the buzzing of her voice.

“To quit apologizing,” you mumble with a huff before you tilt your face up to kiss Julia proper.

“Mhm,” she hums into your mouth and you smile again and as you close your eyes against her warmth your feel her arms encircle your back and pull you flush against her. You break the kiss with a laugh.

“Who’s being handsy now?” you raise a brow and the lopsided grin upon a slightly flushed face almost has you forgetting the breakfast that must surely be cooking downstairs, “Come on,” you tilt your head in the direction of your dresser and Julia groans deeply but allows you to pull away, “Let’s get ready for the day,” you speak both to yourself and the other in the room as you pad over and pull the top drawer open, “We have a lot to do.”

/////

“So,” you speak through a mouthful of food as you stare at the pictures sprawled out across the breakfast table, “Did that lead fall through his whereabouts?” you ask Julia, lifting your head from the grainy still of a man slipping through the open door of a distillery.

“Not quite,” she replies and you watch her frown as she moves the still aside in favor of a bare bones collection of papers and documents that pertain to the man in question, “We have an idea of where he may go next,” she continues, picking up the folder to reveal the newspaper article beneath, “Given his recent history.” You hum in agreement as you skim the article you’ve read multiple times. A handful of distilleries set alight, their contents the perfect accelerant to cover what you are sure is a crime bigger than a simple act of arson, “It’s only that we have more than one potential dwelling that he could make his next target.” You lean in, reaching across the table for the file at which Julia frowns. It takes a few seconds before she looks up and to your waiting hand before she smiles, and hands the off-white folder to you, waiting until your grip upon it is firm before she lets go. You sit back in your chair as you gaze upon the names of each business in turn, eyes narrowing as an idea begins to brew within your mind.

“Y’know...” Adaline’s voice has your focus momentarily diverted to the freckled face that watches you with some small amount of amusement, “I would try once again, to ask you both not to bring your work into the kitchen-“ she huffs a laugh not unkindly as she shakes her head, a small smile upon her face, “-but at this point, I feel like I am but a broken record left to run.” You smile sheepishly as you close the folder, placing it on your lap as you pull yourself up to the table proper.

“Apologies,” you grimace, your eyes going to Julia as she hurriedly clears the papers strewn across the table, only for your sister to wave a hand through the air in front of her face.

“Ah it’s fine. It’s not as if this is an everyday occurrence,” a quirk from her lips, “Just a most of the time one,” she lets out a chuckle that has you smiling before your work is forgotten in lieu of turning to your breakfast only partially eaten.

Early day sun streams in through the window left partly open and the chatter of your friends mingles with the songs of birds calling out for company. Your attention drifts, eyes on your food but mind and heart elsewhere. You’re warm and happy. Safe. Loved. This daily occurrence has become something you have gotten used to over the past year but not something you have taken for granted. No. Never. Your heart is full and body light but you can’t-

“So!” you blink away your thoughts and sit up straight from where you were hunched over your plate as Julia’s voice cuts through you musings, “Any thoughts?” Julia inclines her head towards you and your eyes widen. Had she been talking to you as your mind trailed on the beams of light casting shadows against the far wall?

“About?” you ask as you grimace at your inattentiveness.

“Kurt Moran?” Julia gestures with her fork towards where the folder lays in your lap and you clear your throat.

“I do, in fact, have an idea,” you say.

“Oh?” both Julia and Adaline reply, the former raising a brow and you watch as she leans closer, the sleeve of her blouse drifting dangerously close to a pile of scrambled eggs pushed to one side of her plate as she rests her forearms on the tabletop. 

“I’m going to spend some time upstairs after breakfast,” you clarify, “I want to cross reference some of the names of the distilleries we have written down against my ledger.” A movement out the corner of your eye and you turn your head ever so slightly, not missing the way your sister’s hands grip the edge of the table.

“Do you think there’s a connection with...” Julia trails off, unable, or unwilling, to say the name of your eldest sibling.

“Perhaps,” you shrug, letting out a breath, “Some of these names are familiar though I’m... foggy on the details-“ a look of concern on the face of woman sitting opposite you has you rolling your eyes, “- as they would have been contracts made closer to my timely departure,” you point out, the tension bleeding out of the other two hanging onto your words, “But if some of these business do belong to our sister then-“

“Then you think he’ll avoid them,” Adaline pipes up and you nod.

“Exactly.” As the word leaves your mouth you grab the folder and push yourself to your feet, “Breakfast was fantastic as always Ada,” you smile at your sister before looking to each woman in turn, “Now if you’ll both excuse me,” you push your chair away, wooden legs scraping across the tiled floor and you start to leave for the study, making it to the doorway of the kitchen before a lost thought tugs at your brain and you turn around, “Ada...” you let her name trail off, waiting until your sisters eyes are on you before you continue, “Do you mind if I request a favor?” A slight nod and you continue, “If you find yourself with some time free, one of my shirts has a slash across the arm from-”

“Oh I know all about that!” your sisters grin prickles at your skin as she rises from her chair and you snap your head to Julia who quickly looks away, a flush painting the soft skin of her cheeks, “Not that I believed you when you told me you tripped and landed face first onto a tree root-“ a breath taken and you look back to Adaline as she tilts her head and quirks a brow with a smirk still plain on her face, “How is the nose?”

“Still sore,” you grumble out through gritted teeth, narrowing your gaze at the amusement you see in the green eyes staring back at you.

“Letting someone grab and use your own knife against you?” a widening grin has your left eye twitching and you swear if it were possible, steam would be rising from your ears. Adaline tuts, placing her hands on her hips as she looks up at you with a shake of her head, “Sloppy work I have to say.” You clench your jaw instead of your fists and fight the urge to speak in your defense. Because she’s right. Not that you’d admit that.

“It was a moment of distraction-“

“From what I heard, you got cocky,” no more does your sister seem amused at your fault and for the briefest of moments your field of view flickers, the sternness of her expression giving way to a vision of a woman both your elder. Though your mind is unable to make itself up, on whether the face you see holds eyes of poison green and a malevolent grin, or of vibrant emerald and a love you sorely missed. You take a deep breath.

“I know I made a mistake,” you reluctantly admit, a phantom pain tickling at your nose, “Trust me. It won’t happen again.” If nothing else the remembrance of the pain is enough to not have you repeating foolish blunders.

“It better not,” the shorter woman waggles her finger at you in a mock display of a figure largely absent from your life and you snort a laugh.

“But my shirt,” you reign the conversation back to your poor garment, “Do you think you’d be able to mend it. Please?” you ask as her arms return to her sides and she regards with a look shadowed by a pity that curdles like sour milk in your gut.

“Of course,” the smile she aims at you is gentle and the touch she gives your shoulder as she steps past you and into the hallway even more so, “The green silk blouse with fancy sleeves?” Adaline asks as she looks back at you over her shoulder in time to catch your nod.

“It’s laid out on the bed!” you call after her as she turns the corner into the foyer and disappears from your view, “Thank you!” you add after a beat and receive a muffled ‘you’re welcome’, in reply.

“So,” a voice at your back has you half turning to face Julia who still sits at the breakfast table, plates and cutlery and glasses still placed as if in the middle of a meal still. She looks up at you, an appeasing grin growing wide on her face and you watch as she places an elbow on the table, rests her head in the palm of her hand and bats her eyelashes as she looks up at you, “Help me with the dishes?” You chuckle with a shake of your head and step towards her, bending forwards to place a soft kiss upon her forehead before moving to look her in the eye.

“You’re a big strong girl,” you croon, your free hand tracing the curve of her jaw as your face hovers mere inches in front of hers. Your lips ghost across her own with a featherlight touch and you hear the shuddering of her breath as she closes her eyes, leaning in to you before you draw back both your hand and face. You give her a wink once her brown eyes are open once more before you turn towards the hallway and stride from the kitchen, “I’m sure you can handle it yourself!” you call back.

“Tease!” You hear her voice light and airy and you laugh as you make your way towards the foyer, and towards the stairs.

/////

The chair you find yourself sitting in behind the well-worn desk is comfortable, despite its frequent usage. But even though its padding holds you like you were always meant to be seated upon it, you yourself, are far from content. Your ledger, some pages faded by time, is open in front of you as is the folder, newspaper clipping and all. And you, are leaning as far back into the chair as you are able, staring at the wall across the room from you.

At the face of the man who looks at you with eyes full of an undeserving kindness.

And at the still of your sister in the middle of the web of string and lies.

It’s an old image of her. One that Adaline took when she had no choice but to leave and as you stare, gaze unwavering at the subtle curve to your older sisters lips, you wonder why she took it at all... It’s not as if any love was lost between them and yet it was something she chose to carry with her all those years she was lost to you. Was it a strange form of grief perhaps? A longing for a sister she remembered well and one you barely do?

You grieve in your own way still. For some things you can name and many you cannot. For a life that could’ve been if the world was kinder to your family. For a house that you had loved even as treachery had leeched into the walls and soaked into the very foundation.

For some things you will never get back.

You raise your arms before yourself your palms facing outwards as you eye the backs of your hands, the skin raised in some area and pitted in others. A patchwork of pale and pink flesh alike. You turn your hands over and feel the muscles in your face twitch as you flex your fingers, wiggling the stiff digits before you curl them slowly and carefully. Your fingertips hover centimeters above your palm, the skin of which is tight and uncomfortable and forever marred by your own actions and you’ll never-

Stop it.

You take a stuttering breath before you let your arms fall to the desk with a muted thump, closing your eyes to the world just as you hear the door to the study creak open.

“Annie?” Julia’s voice is hesitant as you hear her step into the room, the door shutting with a soft click, “Are you alright?” Her footsteps are muffled by the carpet but you can still hear as she pads towards the desk.

“I’m fine,” you reply, cracking open an eye at the huff of a not quite laugh from your girlfriend who now stands in such a way that the faces of ghosts past are hidden from your view.

“I find that a little hard to believe mi amor,” she smiles and leans forwards and you open your eyes fully as you watch her, hands sliding across the desk towards you, the paperwork parting in her wake, “You’ve been up here for a while.” You watch as her outstretched fingers reach you, smoothing across your puckered skin before curling into your palms where they rest flat against the desk. Your fingers twitch of their own accord when she swipes her thumbs over the backs of your hands. A motion you barely feel.

“I was working,” you give in way of a reply, tearing your eyes from the calming gesture to look into her own, “And admittedly, I was drifting a bit,” despite your trepidation you smile, “But I am fine. Truly.” Mostly, “And I’ve narrowed down where Kurt may next make an appearance,” you add as you pull your hands away, take hold of the folder, and turn it so Julia can see the changes you’ve made to her list.

Upon the thin sheet lay a handful of names. Business with possible connections to the man you’ve all been keeping track of, as difficult as it has been. From witnesses unable to talk for fear of what their truths may bring upon them, to those who showed no love for you as you tried to do the right thing. But you used to live under the thumb of a woman who had you catalogue and memorize every little tick, trick and tell. If nothing else, the skills that were fostered within you under the guise of safety can help you prevent any others having to experience the pain that plagues you still.

Two distilleries from the handful listed have been circled again and again, and you watch Julia smooth a thumb across paper torn by the force of the shape drawn.

“Two?” Julia asks, her eyes lifting from the page to look at you and you give her a half-smile.

“Were but I a miracle worker,” you drawl, “Alas.” The bronze-skinned woman before you smirks and drops her gaze to the names once more just as the smile slips from your face.

Truth be told you wish none of these places bared the mark of your sisters fetid influence. You wish, even after a year, that you didn’t have to think about her. You wish she didn’t still plague your thoughts and nightmares but you just can’t help it. Can’t help but wonder where she is. Can’t help but wonder why she has yet to come for you. You’d like to hope that maybe both her and her hounds have lost track of your scent, diluted by time and distance as it must be. You’d like to hope with everything you have and are that maybe she has simply given up. You’d like to hope. But you’re not sure you believe yourself.

You close your eyes as you take a deep breath and resist the urge to tighten your hands into fists with another present.

“Hey,” a sharp tap to your forehead startles your thoughts into dispersing like a frightened flock of birds, “Stop that,” Julia clicks her tongue as you blink up at her.

“Stop what?” you goad, tilting your head just so.

“Thinking so much,” you watch the woman opposite you wrinkle her nose in mock disgust, “I can almost hear your thoughts with how loud they are.” You roll your eyes yet there’s a smile on your face.

“Apologies for using my intellect,” you laugh and watch as Julia shakes her head.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” the smile she gives you, unlike your own, is tense. You sigh.

“I can’t help it,” you shrug as your eyes drift back to the folder, reaching to turn it around and pull it back to your side of the desk, “Anything to do with Eva...” your sentence trails off and you allow the silence to shape words you’d rather not speak.

“Maybe you should sit this one out?” The suggestion from Julia has your face pulling at first into an expression of disgust. Top lip curled and brows drawn so low that you can feel the wrinkles form on your forehead. When you look up to your partner however your disgust melts away like ice once the season changes.

“Sit this out?” you frown and shake your head in disbelief, “What?” you bare your teeth and move your hands to your lap, “Because you think I can’t handle this?” you raise your voice, an anger simmering beneath your skin, burning with shame.

“Can you?” Julia asks and beneath your infuriation are twin sparks of surprise and hurt. Because she’s never doubted you before. Never diminished your talents because of your scars. But despite your growing anger, you can, to your extreme annoyance, see where she’s coming from.

The connections and the warehouse stock. Camphine is a dangerous substance. A quick bright light to banish the darkness at the cost of being highly flammable.  Your arms begin to itch and so you grasp the tops of your knees to stop from scratching at the phantom sensation.

“I can do this Julia,” you speak with confidence, your head held high as you look into the warm brown of your partners eyes, and then down to her lips pulled into a gentle smile.

“Okay,” she speaks the word on a soft breath and your eyes follow her, your head turning a touch to the left as she rounds the desk to your side, “I believe you.” You tilt your head upwards just that bit more as she leans down, and kisses you gently upon your forehead, “I just wanted to make sure that you believe you.” You feel your lips quirk into a half-smile before Julia steps away and offers you her hand, “Come on,” she smiles down at you and your heart flutters in your chest as she gives you that lopsided smile. You reach out and wrap your fingers around her forearm as her free hand goes to your elbow and you are pulled from the chair onto steady feet, “Let’s go get some fresh air,” your girlfriend grins and the hand on your elbow rises to grip your bicep as your arm own falls back to your side.

“A walk does sound nice,” you agree, taking a breath before leaning in and placing a quick kiss to a corner of Julia’s lips. You feel her grip on your upper arm tighten ever-so-slightly, “I think I just need to, well, not think for a while,” you chuckle as you turn to head for the door, only to be tugged back against a warm chest, the hand on your arm rising to cup the back of your head. When your green eyes meet the brown of the woman holding you close you slide your arms around her waist, hands linking loosely at the small of her back, “Julia...” you hum a low warning at the glazed look in your girlfriends eyes.

“If not thinking is all you are looking to achieve...” her voice is low, a subtle husky note playing a song you know far too well, “There’s other ways I can think of accomplishing such a task.” A shiver runs down your spine as the hand on your shoulder curves around to stroke lazy circles over the clothes covering your upper back, and the digits that were formerly tracing patterns against your nape card upwards through your mess of curls.

You resist the urge to close your eyes and lean into the feeling. Barely. Maybe you do, but for a few moments of bliss before you sigh and pull away.

“Fresh air, Julia,” you chide her, “It was your idea after all.” You tickle her sides briefly as your draw your hands away and she wriggles before you, her own arms pulling back against the brief laugh that escapes her lips.

“Cheater,” she huffs and you shake your head with a smile as you turn to the door, a soft laugh at your back as you pull it open and you both enter the hall.

“What’s so funny?” you ask without looking behind you as you both reach the stairs.

“Nothing,” comes the light reply and you raise a brow at no one as you both descend to the foyer, “I’m just... happy.” You feel your face grow warm, your heart skips a beat and your breath catches in your throat all at once. And when you both stand before the front door the smile on your face is mirrored in the woman’s before you.

“I love you,” you tell her, your brows creasing and heart aching with an emotion that these three simple words can never quite convey. But you do your best.

“I love you to. So much,” Julia’s reply has your heart soaring and as she raises and arm to place a hand upon the side of your face you lean into the touch, turning your face to kiss her upon a calloused palm. A soft laugh, a shuffling of feet. You take a step back and turn to the door.

“Fresh air first,” you hum as you pull it open to reveal the world beyond.

“First?” you hear Julia at your back as you step outside, “Are you saying there’s a second?” A soft click as the door shuts and you turn to look over your shoulder with a smirk.

“Maybe.” A bright smile on a warm face. The sun is shining high from above and you, are happy.